Defender of the Faith
by black-journal
Summary: Sequel to Trying Snape. With the growing threat of another rebirth of Voldemort, Harry must care for Voldemort's righthand man, Severus Snape. Harry must come to terms with himself, Snape, and who they both really are. Eventual MILD slash HPSS.
1. Going Home

**Note**: This is the sequel to "Trying Snape", which can be found here: http://www. fanfiction .net/s/3575788/1/ (just get rid of those spaces at the beginning and end of fanfiction), or in my profile. I strongly recommend that it is read first. Aside from that, the usual disclaimer about not owning a thing.

**Note II**: There will be SOME slash in later chapters (HPSS), BUT it will be mild and mostly in a single chapter that can be skipped over if it's not your piece of cake.

**Chapter 1 – Going Home**

It wasn't until they were both back in Harry's house that it really hit him. Snape had been sentenced to live here until he confessed. As Harry didn't expect a confession out of him any more than, say, he'd expect a confession out of his breakfast, he had the feeling it was going to be a long time. That didn't make him happy at all. Living with Snape didn't seem like it was going to be very fun, especially considering the fact that last time, it meant he was deprived of his alcohol. And that, in itself, was a very important thing. Far more important than doing his part for the Wizarding World.

Things were going to be a little different this time. Snape had been fitted with a collar that prevented him from using magic and would not allow him to wander more than twenty feet or so outside of Harry's house. It seemed like a good compromise, in that Harry would be able to leave the house and not have to worry about Snape running off. It meant that he wouldn't be confined. They stressed over and over again that this was not meant to punish him. Somehow, he wasn't quite able to believe them. The look on Felix's face made him almost certain that this had been prearranged. And that just pissed him off. He had committed no crime other than saving the world, and he was to be, effectively, the jailkeeper of the most dangerous Death Eater. Being unemployed, though, probably made him a more ideal candidate than most. They even promised him a monthly salary, though he didn't need it.

Ron and Hermione were nothing but supportive. They said to him, many times over the first few days, that this was his chance to get involved with the world again. Hermione had confessed that she had been worried about him, and the fact that he seemed to be withdrawing from the world at large. She tried to convince him to take several potions that she said would help his mood, but he denied that he had a problem. After all, he didn't have a problem. Ron had taken him out drinking – with Hermione's strictest disapproval – and had tried to have a heart-to-heart. That didn't work very well, and Harry had just gone to a different bar to get plastered. It didn't really matter the state he was in when he got home; Snape would still be lying in bed, staring at the wall like a ragdoll. Occasionally, if Harry got at the right angle, it would appear that Snape was staring at him, but it was pretty evident that Snape was actually staring at nothing at all. It was extremely disconcerting, and aside from leaving food in the bedroom a couple of times a day, he couldn't see that there was much more to be done, and so he avoided the man entirely. If Snape was going to feel like confessing, it wasn't going to be because he was being watched every minute of the day.

It was at the end of the first week that Ron showed up at his door with a suitcase. Harry tried to figure out what was going on; not very easy when he was severely hungover. Ron cheerfully announced that Hermione had sent him to stay with Harry for a while to make sure he was okay, and that he was going to take the couch so neither Snape nor Harry had to be kicked out of their respective bedrooms. He said all of this as he was wandering through the house, giving Harry no opportunity whatsoever to turn him out or even get a word in.

"What about my privacy?" Harry finally managed to ask, once Ron had put his toothbrush in the bathroom and stolen a drawer in which to put his clothes. "Now I feel like I'm under arrest myself." It was hard to get his thoughts into order considering his hangover, but this was wrong. Ron should not be moving in here. That much he was sure about.

"It's a bloody house, mate. I'm going to be at work for most of the day, so no need to worry about me then." Ron had smiled, and then promptly not talked about it for the rest of the day, only speaking up again to ask if Harry was going to make dinner or if he was going to have to do it himself. Harry let him cook.

He should have seen what happened next as fairly inevitable. Ron and Hermione were married after all. That meant that Hermione showed up, and Harry was forced to go out and buy a mattress because he was completely out of sleeping space. The worst part was not just them, though. They were at least adults. No, what was worse were the two children that came along with. Brian was 5 and so could be counted on to be nearly normal most of the time. But Mary was only a few months old and was howling at all hours. That Harry did not appreciate at all, and thought that it was a more than valid reason for him to never have children of his own. Hermione and Ron apologized endlessly, but Harry's nerves wore through very quickly. He couldn't see why they were here, except to make his life miserable.

Even his evenings no longer appeared to be his own. If it had just been Ron, he was sure that he could have managed, somehow. And he could probably even put up with both Ron and Hermione. But it was the kids that were going to drive him round the twist and he had the awful feeling that it wouldn't be too long before he was in the same state as Snape, something he repeatedly told Ron when Hermione and the children weren't around. Ron sympathized, but still didn't show any sign of being ready to move out.

The house soon became a wreck. Brian might be able to sleep through the night and occasionally understand the concept of not screaming 24/7, but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to make a huge mess wherever he went. Whether it was food that he threw instead of eating it, or just random objects that he decided to relocate, he made the house into a disaster zone. The only place that he didn't go was Snape's room, and that was because it was locked. Harry didn't want to be responsible when Snape lashed out and killed one of the kids. He couldn't see Ron and Hermione taking that too well, even if it was at least partly their fault.

With every day, he became increasingly glad that he'd never settled down. It didn't take long for what he suspected were long-time marital squabbles to start taking place again. They were over stupid little things, and Ron seemed to start most of them, but they sometimes escalated into hour-long screaming matches. During those, Harry just went out and had some drinks. Or a lot of drinks. Hermione didn't like him drinking a lot when he was in the house – despite the fact that it was his house – and so he just came staggering in drunk. While he couldn't see that there was much difference in that, Hermione assured him that there was, at the same time telling him that he shouldn't be drinking that much anyway. He had always been pretty good at ignoring Hermione, though, so it wasn't nearly as much of a problem as it could have been.

Fortunately, he had the weekdays to himself. Ron and Hermione went to work, and both of their spawn went to a playschool, for which Harry was incredibly grateful. It gave him a few hours to pick up the pieces of his life, only to have them thoroughly shattered when they all came home in the evening. Weekends were pure hell; and Harry more than once damned his best friends just for existing.

One of the interesting side effects of them coming to stay with him, though, was the fact that he started spending more time with Snape. It was no less noisy in Snape's room, but at least the door was locked and the room was not abysmally destroyed. Snape, to Harry's surprise, didn't make half-bad company, considering his other options. He didn't often talk to Snape – he felt that that would make him seem a bit of an idiot – but he did occasionally, and he even started to feel that Snape sympathized with him. He knew it was all in his mind and that he was slowly going crazy, but he consoled himself with the fact that if he did actually go crazy, he wouldn't have to put up with all of this havoc that the Weasleys were creating in his house, and the way that they were disrupting his heretofore perfectly happy life. And he had thought Snape was bad.

Hermione seemed surprisingly out of it concerning Harry's feelings. Considering how perceptive she normally was, that didn't stop her from trying to force him to enjoy holding Mary, who seemed to know it was him and made a routine of throwing up on him as soon as he'd taken her in his arms. She somehow couldn't understand why this made him leery of doing it again and assured him that babies did it all the time. The fact that he'd not see Mary throw up on Hermione once was, she said, completely beside the point. She tried to encourage him to play with Brian, but Brian's favorite game seemed to be hit Harry over the head with whatever was nearest, and that didn't much appeal to him, either.

One evening, Harry cornered Ron and demanded to know exactly why they had intruded on his life. After a bit of bluffing, Ron confessed that they were here to make sure that he didn't go crazy and didn't drink himself to death. They had apparently been asked by the Minister of Magic himself, and had been assured that it was the only way. Harry pointed out that he had started drinking even more since they had shown up and that the kids were going to drive him insane within another week, and surely that was not what the Minister of Magic wanted. Ron agreed to this and said that he'd talk to Hermione about it.

Harry didn't expect anything to come of it, so he was extremely surprised when, one evening, Hermione said, "We're not here to make your life miserable, you know." Ron sat down beside her on the couch, and she continued. "Really, we're here to help you and I'm really sorry if we've made things worse."

Harry suspected that, as nice as this appeared to be starting out, it wasn't going to actually result in them leaving. But he could play nice. For a little while, anyway. "I was just used to my life as it was. You've made it completely different, and it's just taking time to get used to it. Remember, I'm used to being a bachelor."

"And now a prison warden," said Ron with a grin.

"That, too. Not that Snape does much that needs me keeping an eye on." He thought of Snape, sitting upstairs, and found himself wondering whether Snape felt the same way he did. It was a disconcerting thought. "You know I love both of you, and Brian and Mary, too. Just like…a culture shock or something. Takes some getting used to."

"Me too, mate," said Ron, shaking his head. "I still don't think I'm used to it."

"Really, Harry," said Hermione. "It's not that much different."

"You're just too used to it, that's all." Before this could go in a bad direction, Harry decided it was best to just walk out. Walking out would make sure things could never go sour. It had always been a principle of his.


	2. Vital Signs

**Chapter Two – Vital Signs**

Hermione had tried her best. Ron had tried his best. They had even tried to calm down their children so that Harry wouldn't lose his mind. He was sure that they had all tried to the best of their ability, and that most of the fault lay with him. Though he was pretty good at blaming himself, he did recognize that they'd at least tried. But it was all getting to be too much. The talk with Hermione had, paradoxically, made things worse. It only made him see that they were trying and he was just failing to adapt.

He spent more time locked up with Snape or more time in the bar. More time anywhere except with Ron and Hermione and their wailing brats that had invaded his home. He had never been claustrophobic, but now he was Weasely-phobic. They had destroyed his life by moving in with him, all under the guise of helping. They had had good intentions, but it had just been a massive failure.

It took him a while to build up enough courage, but over dinner one evening, he said, "Ron, Hermione, I've been thinking about something. And I want you to know that I've thought about this for days, and wanted to think of the best way to say it."

Ron seemed fully focused on him, but Hermione was feeding Mary and appeared to be giving him half an ear at best.

But he braved on. It needed to be said. "I'm sick of the lot of you being here. You're just…fucking with my life. I need my space, I need my peace and quiet and I've got none of that since you've moved in. You're my best friends, but…for the love of everything, please get out."

Hermione looked over at him, and then at Ron. "Did you do this, Ron?"

"What? I didn't do anything? If anything, it's you! You're the one letting Brian run around the house till all hours of the night…"

"Says the man who told him that he'd never have a bedtime!"

"ENOUGH," shouted Harry. He'd been witness to far too many of these squabbles. On one level, he really was used to it. They'd been doing it ever since they'd met. But on another, it was highly annoying. Not only because he didn't like people sniping at each other around the house, but also because it made him feel a little left out. He didn't want someone to start picking fights with him all the time over absolutely nothing, but it might be nice to be noticed every once in a while. "Look, it's not either of your faults…it's my fault."

Ron laughed. "Harry, just tell us to sod off. We get it. Heck, I'd like to sod off from all of this sometimes."

"What a responsible father you'll make."

"I said I'd like to, Hermione, not that I planned to walk out this evening. Try listening to what I have to say for once."

"Sorry, but I'm trying to take care of our child, and you're just going on about nothing…"

"Guys, would you please listen to me! I'm telling you I want you to move out because you're driving me insane. This fighting is at least part of it. I'm just so…sick of it. I don't mind you guys as friends, I don't know what I'd do without you, but living with you is just a nightmare." He stood up. "I'm not hungry. I'm going to go take Snape his dinner. If you guys could be moved out by tomorrow, that would be great."

He walked away from the table and piled some food on a plate and got a glass of water before heading upstairs. He took the food into Snape's room, put it on the bed, and then locked the door. He sank down onto the floor in the corner, and allowed his head to fall into his hands. Even from here, he could hear them still going at it, and he was so glad that they were going. They had more than outstayed their welcome and finally he was going to get some time to himself.

After a few minutes of trying to calm himself down, he looked up from his hands and at Snape. Snape was staring straight ahead, the food in front of him untouched. Harry knew that Snape wouldn't touch it until he was alone and it seemed a little unfair to deprive Snape of a hot meal just because he needed a bit of quiet. So he took a shower, and returned to Snape's room to find that the plate was empty. The strange thing was that it didn't look like Snape had moved a muscle. Harry shook his head.

"What game are you trying to play, Snape? I really do want to help you. Fuck knows why, but I do. But I can't help you until you decide to…you know, do something. I mean, I know you're eating and everything, but talking to me would be great. If you're helpful, I can ask them to lighten your sentence. This could work out well for both of us. I know you're Death Eater to the core, but don't you have any compassion at all? Innocent people are going to be killed if things get as bad as they did last time. You can't honestly, truly want that."

Snape stared at him.

Harry swore and fought back the urge to hit the man. He even managed to not shout out at him. Instead, he took a deep breath, and said, "You're not doing yourself any favors by not talking. All you're doing is wasting my time and slowly destroying my patience. Sooner or later, I'm going to go back to the Wizengamot and tell them that you're a lost cause. Then it's Azkaban till you die. If you want that, that's great. But I get the feeling you don't, and so you need to help yourself."

Harry threw up his hands. Maybe the whole goddamned world was just out to get him today. He retreated to his bedroom, kicked out the various toys that Brian had trailed in and then locked the door behind him. As this was not Snape's room, he could rely on Brian pounding on the door within an hour, but it was something he'd grown despicably used to.

He lay down on his bed and put a pillow over his head to drown out the cacophony. Even then, he could still hear Ron and Hermione. Their voices were getting steadily louder and if they didn't hurry up and kill each other soon, Harry might just be tempted to go and do it for them, and put the lot of them out of their misery. He was even pretty sure that he could get the Wizengamot to acquit him if he argued his case well enough. This was a genuine madhouse, and it was surely impossible for anyone to not go insane.

A little while later, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. They were too heavy to be Brian's, and so that meant Ron or Hermione. The expected knock came a few seconds later, and Harry heaved himself out of bed to deal with it.

It was Ron. Harry had the feeling that Hermione had sent him to deal with things and felt a little sorry for Ron. "What's up?" he asked, plastering on his best sincere smile.

"I just wanted to apologize."

Harry managed to not shout, an achievement he thought was probably comparable to his defeat of Voldemort, all things considered. "Don't worry about it." He shook his head. "I overreacted at dinner, and I need to apologize for that. You've done nothing but try to help me and I just threw it all back in your face. That was uncalled for."

Ron grinned. "Want to stop apologizing and head out for a pint?"

It was really tempting. So tempting that Harry hated Ron just for asking. "No, Ron. Not right now. I'm tired and I have a headache, and if I go out drinking, I'll end up with a hangover tomorrow, and I really think I can do without that. But…thanks. Maybe another time." 

Ron nodded. "Right. Well…Hermione and I have decided that we're both going to take the afternoon off work tomorrow so that we can move all of our stuff back to our house and give you your house back. I know we have rather taken over. And then we'll see you on DV-day, at the latest." He gestured over at the corner of Harry's room, where a toy broomstick was propped up against the wall. "You deserve a bit of peace and quiet. And maybe it'll even convince the greasy git to come out of his room, right?"

For the first time in ages, the smile on Harry's face was genuine. "Yeah. That would make my life so much better. Having Professor Snape wandering through my house. I'll take you and the kids any day of the week."

line break

Then they were gone. They were out of his house and, apart from the mess that they had left in their wake, he could almost forget that they had ever been there in the first place. For the first time in who knews how long, he could sit on his sofa, in his living room, with his drink, and just relax. It was an amazing feeling, and one that he'd never really known how much he would miss once he couldn't have it.

The telly was on, but not very loudly, and Harry's attention certainly wasn't focused on it. He was focused on his drink, and how many more of them it would take him to get properly drunk. Then he would pass out on the sofa and wake up sometime tomorrow. He might not feel any better for it, but it would mean one more evening where he didn't have to think about anything at all, other than the amber liquid in his glass. And that much, he was capable of thinking about.

So lost in the bountiful flow of liquid was he, that he didn't notice the footsteps coming down the stairs, and then down the hall. He didn't notice until he saw the tall, gaunt figure sweep into his living room. Even though it had been so long, Harry still shrank back at the man's imposing walk; the walk that proclaimed to everyone that this, wherever it was, belonged to one Severus Snape.

Harry put his full glass down in a hurry, sloshing some of it over the side onto the table and his hand. He wiped his hand on his jeans and stood up. "Snape! What are you doing down here?" Then he realized that his tone was accusing, as though Snape did not have the right to be here and should stay locked up. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. Do you…uh, do you want a drink?" The idea of drinking with Snape might well put him off alcohol for life, but he wasn't going to deny the man a drink.

Snape sat down. He didn't look at Harry. He was on the other sofa, sitting rigidly. His eyes stared straight ahead, even when Harry was talking to him. There was no sign that he was aware that he had moved from the bedroom to the living room, or why he had done it.

"Come on, Snape. You came down here by yourself. Means you're not catatonic. So just talk to me, just one word, would you?" Harry knew that he was at least mostly drunk and so now wasn't the best time to try an interrogation, but that wasn't necessarily going to stop him.

Snape just stared at the wall.

Harry sat back down and took a sip of his drink. Trust Snape to start making his life miserable just as soon as the last misery had been dealt with. Damn Severus Snape.


	3. Awakening

** Chapter Three – Awakening**

DV-Day. Depending on who you asked and when, Death and/or Defeat of Voldemort.

For the first few years, Harry had tolerated it. He had allowed himself to be trotted out and spent the day exhausting himself at parades and speeches and parties until he collapsed at home and slept for the next two days to make up for it. It had been a heady rush at first. Though he had never really liked the adoration that had come along with saving the world, there was something highly addictive about being asked to tell everyone how wonderful he was and how happy he was to have saved them all. The only bad bits were when someone asked him what it had been liked, but he had always been able to brush them off.

Over the past couple of years, though, the thrill had started to wear off. He started to see them for what they were; a fairly useless celebration for something he wasn't even sure was properly over yet. He had started trying to come up with excuses not to attend, or at least to make as minimal a presence as possible. The celebration organizers had not liked this, as he was the mainstay of the entertainment; how could one celebrate the death of Voldemort without his killer there to strut? But he had eventually convinced them that he was not going to do it and there was no way they could make him.

This year, he had a ready-made excuse. He informed the committee that he couldn't possibly go out when he had to tend to one Severus Snape and ensure that he remained in the best of health. The state of his health was dubious, as Harry had never really thought to check. He could see some bruises on Snape's exposed skin, but he wasn't really keen on inspecting Snape. If Snape was in sufficient pain, Harry was sure he could raid Harry's medicine cabinet, where there were some salves that might give him some relief. As he had appeared to be a complete vegetable up until now, though, Harry saw it as rather a moot point.

Snape being there, though, made begging off this year easy, and for that he was grateful. It meant that he could sleep in as he did every morning, and not have to worry about getting up on time to be ready for the early parade, or the speech over breakfast, or the morning parade, or any of the rest of it. If he felt particularly good, he might watch some of it on the telly, but from now on, he had resolved to never be involved in it.

There was another side to it, as well. They could celebrate, but they hadn't been there. They hadn't stood at that final battle, and felt all the things that he and the others felt. They didn't know the anguish that came along with killing Voldemort and sacrificing your friends in the process. Ron and Hermione had stopped attending them years ago, begging off as soon as Brian was born, but Harry strongly suspected that they felt the same way he had only come to feel.

Not to mention the fact that no one considered he had been in hospital for months after it was all over. They all still seemed to think that it was an easy victory, that Harry had just waved his wand and Voldemort had disappeared. Not that it had been an hours-long duel that still cropped up in his nightmares and that the exhaustion of it all had nearly killed him, if all of the spells hadn't. They didn't know that he still saw all of their faces – both Death Eaters and members of the Order – in his dreams, and that when he did, he woke with tears running down his cheeks. It felt somehow as though he had failed them all, by failing to keep them alive. The Death Eaters not so much, but the members of the Order. All of them had been willing to give their lives to destroy Voldemort, but he always had a nagging fear in the back of his mind that if he had really been the Chosen One that they had all wanted so badly, that he shouldn't have let them die.

The nightmares usually got worse at around this time of year, and that was why Harry's drinking increased commensurately. Drinking tended to make the nightmares tamer and the wakings easier. Not by much, but it was already a narrow line that he was treading. He wondered if he would ever stop dreaming of it, if he would ever be able to shrug it off as just that thing that happened a long time ago. Somehow, he doubted it. Even if he managed to personally put his mind off it, the rest of the Wizarding World would not be so obliging.

And that was why he was now sitting in his living room, watching the parade on telly, with Snape sitting as stone-silent as he had been. Harry was not sure that Snape had gone back upstairs to his bedroom and then come back downstairs, but whenever Harry had been awake, Snape had just been sitting in the couch, staring straight ahead of him and utterly unresponsive. Harry didn't know which annoyed him most; the stupid parade on the television or Snape's presence.

At midday, when they started making speeches, he had to turn it off. The people they found now where ones that hadn't even been there on the day, and so had no idea what was really involved. Harry couldn't stand listening to them go on about what a great day it had been. They didn't understand that it had been the worst day in the world.

He rose from his seat to refill his drink when Snape spoke.

"If you can't find something more entertaining to watch than that, Potter, I think I would rather go back to Azkaban and face the Dementors."

Harry dropped his glass. The floor was carpeted, so it just bounced and spilled its contents all over the carpet. Slowly, he turned around. "You can talk," he said, feeling stupid as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

"Evidently, Potter. Are you going to offer me a drink or keep it all for yourself?"

Harry found himself walking to the kitchen to grab another glass and fill it. Hands trembling, he handed it to Snape, who downed it in one easy, practiced gulp. Snape was clearly no stranger to whisky. Snape extended the glass. Harry assumed that Snape wanted him to fill it.

"Get it yourself, if you're that eager to drink me out of house and home."

"You appear more than…capable of that yourself, Potter. Though it really need not concern you, I am rather…I am sure you would prefer to get me that drink than have me spill it all over this…admittedly shabby carpet." Snape paused to breathe in the most unlikely of places, as though he didn't have the energy to complete a sentence.

Harry was pretty sure that he should be worried about that, but instead he just took the glass and refilled it. This time, Snape sipped at it and Harry poured himself one before retreating to the other sofa. He stared at Snape for a while, not sure what was going on. What kind of game was Snape playing, and why?

"I'm going to let the Ministry know that you've decided to wake up," said Harry eventually. "I'm sure they'll be interested in talking to you."

"How extraordinarily kind of you, Potter. Forgive me if I don't get on my knees and thank you for your kindness."

"Did they torture you in Azkaban? Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember, Potter. And I think that you know the answer to that question as well as I."

"Why did…why did you go…silent like that? It's really creepy." Though Harry had to admit that a good deal of the things that Snape had done were creepy to one degree or another.

"My reasons are my own, Mr. Potter."

Then it came falling out of him, careless words that he was sure that he would regret. "Why did you kill Dumbledore? He was the only man that trusted you, he forgave you when so many would have condemned you. He wanted to let you redeem yourself, and instead all you did was kill him. What kind of thanks is that?" Then he looked down at his glass and took a deep breath. "But you probably didn't care about that at all, did you? All he was, was just another obstacle on the rise of Voldemort to power. One that had to be taken care of delicately, and so you wormed your way into his confidence so that you could betray him when the moment was ripe. That's all Dumbledore ever was to you, wasn't it?" He was breathing hard now, and fighting back tears.

Snape merely stared at him. There was a faint smile curled on his lips, as if he had found the whole outburst amusing. Perhaps he had. He licked his lips, and then said, "My reasons, Mr. Potter are…far more complex than you could ever…understand. Suffice it to say that…there was a good reason for me…to do it, and it is not…something that I regret. No amount…of tears on your part…will change that, so stop…sniveling like a child."

Harry wanted to hit Snape. He wanted to make him hurt, wanted to make him scream, wanted to give him the death that he deserved for killing Dumbledore. Not a painless death like the one that Snape gave Dumbledore, but a painful one. One that would make sure that Snape felt every ounce of anguish that the entire Wizarding world had felt on that dreadful day. "How can you say that? How?"

"Potter, control yourself."

Harry didn't want to control himself, didn't want to do anything but fling himself at Snape and start beating him until the man showed some sign of remorse or regret. "And then you ran off to the Death Eaters and helped them and killed more people and worked hand-in-hand with Voldemort and then ran and hid like a coward when I killed him and…" Harry broke off as Snape started to laugh. It wasn't a manic laugh, but a genuine one, as though Snape really found all of this hilarious. That only made Harry angrier. "You don't know how happy I will be when you die. When they kill you for everything that you've done. You're a monster, Snape."

Snape waited for a few seconds before saying, "Are you quite finished, Potter?"

The calmness in Snape's voice made Harry want to scream. Instead, he drained his glass and said, "I'm not going to have this conversation with you. I'll let the Ministry officials talk to you. If I never have to talk to you again, I'll be quite happy." He was surprised to realize how vehemently he meant it. It had been so easy to forget how much he had hated Snape the man, rather than Snape the vague mental image.

He walked out of the room and took a few deep breaths in the kitchen. It was easier to be calm when he wasn't in the same room as Snape. Snape set his nerves on fire and made him want to do things that he hadn't done in years; hurt, kill. It was best that he never did that again, though, and so it was best that he avoid Snape.

But Snape didn't seem too intent on allowing that to happen. It wasn't long before Harry heard Snape say, "Is something bothering you, Mr. Potter?" Harry could hear the sneer in his voice.

Harry didn't trust himself to face the man. "Of course not, Snape. I just don't see the point in talking to you."

"If only I believed you."

"What's the point in talking to a dead man?"

The silence was longer than he expected. Harry turned around. Snape was staring at the floor, a thoughtful expression on his face.

* * *

Two things. First, thank you so much to all of my reviewers. Seriously, you all rock hard.

Another thing. The next chapter is all of a sentence written so far. There's a chance that it could be finished at some point tomorrow, if my cold decides to not knock me out for another 15-hour nap. But we'll see. I'll do my best to get it up at some point tomorrow, or at the latest, Saturday. My cold can't last that much longer, can it? (we're already nearly at the week mark)


	4. When Things Go Wrong

**Chapter Four – Day One**

They got a special escort to the Ministry. Apparently, the collar that Snape was wearing would not permit him to Apparate, not even Side-Along Apparition, and using Muggle means was deemed highly inappropriate. So they were met by a car at some godawful hour of the morning. Harry was barely out of bed and was still trying to wish away the hangover when the rap on the door came. Magnified by ten thousand in his abused mind, Harry was well-prepared to curse the bastards that came for him at the unsightly hour of ten in the morning. Upon opening the door and seeing that it was the Ministry, he re-thought things, and allowed them in while he went off to get dressed.

It took him more than an hour before he felt ready to go back downstairs, and didn't really care that he was making the Ministry wait. Yes, he had called them the previous evening and told them that Severus was talking and that they were more than welcome to bring him in for interrogation, but couldn't they have waited for a more sensible hour? Finally, he was ready to go, and went in to tell Snape.

Snape was sitting on the bed, serene and haughty. "It's time to go to the Ministry, Snape," said Harry, finding himself unable to meet Snape's eye.

"I think I would have realized that for myself, as they introduced themselves, very loudly, I might add, when they came in."

"Uh…well…yes. Well, it's time to go."

"What if I do not particularly feel like accompanying you, Mr. Potter?"

"Well…you're the reason that they're here. They want to question you…now that you're talking to us again. We need to know certain things."

"Such as?"

It was disconcerting, Harry realized, that Snape was not making eye contact. In fact, he seemed to be looking everywhere in the room except him. It felt as though Snape wasn't actually speaking to him, but to somebody else. "Mostly…I guess, they want your confession, but they also want to know what's going on."

"What's going on?" Snape now looked at him. There was a distinctly amused expression on his face as he rose from the bed. His movements were slow and measured, as though he was not quite sure of himself, and had to watch every step to keep from falling over.

"Come on, Snape. It's not me you need to tell it all to. It's the Ministry. And they're waiting downstairs for you, so let's go." Harry reached out to grab Snape's arm, but Snape pulled back before Harry even got close.

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, that I am quite capable of walking down a flight of stairs."

Harry shook his head. Sometimes, it just wasn't worth even trying to be nice to Snape. "Fine. Have it your way. Come on." Harry walked out of the room and waited for Snape to start walking before starting on the stairs. Keeping an eye on him, Harry walked into the living room to hand him off to the Ministry officials.

Harry had thought that they would be able to take Snape and he could go back to bed, as he was sorely tired and in need of at least five more hours of sleep. But they dragged him along anyway, saying that there were things that they needed to ask him, too.

The car ride there was thoroughly uneventful, and Harry had long since grown unimpressed with the magic way of squeezing into impossible gaps to make sure that even the worst traffic did not delay them by more than a few seconds. They did not go through the visitors entrance, but through one of the three employee entrances, and shortly emerged into the lobby.

He was far too familiar with the place, and frankly would have been glad to have never set foot in the place again. More specifically, to never go back to the Department of Aurors, where he knew Felix would be waiting for him, with that smug look on his face. Sure enough, Felix was, and Harry wanted to punch him. Instead, he smiled and said, "It's been a long time, Felix."

"That it has, Harry. I trust you are doing well?"

"Brilliant. Except for having a Death Eater in my spare bedroom, I couldn't be better."

"On that, I must congratulate you." Felix jerked his head backwards. "We've got him in an interrogation room right now. Thanks for getting him to talk. All of us here appreciate it."

"Oh, so has he been talking?" Harry was thrilled; that meant that Snape would be going back to Azkaban and he could have his life back. Though, he was forced to admit, things weren't that much different now that Snape was there. Still, it felt damn strange to have his former professor and acknowledged Death Eater sleeping in the same house as him.

Here, Felix looked at the floor. "Well…not as such…but the day is still young." Clearly trying to change the subject, he cleared his throat and continued, "In any case, Harry, we would appreciate your input on certain activities and goings-on in the country."

"In case you forgot, I don't work here anymore." As a teenager, being an Auror seemed like a cool job, but the reality of it was far more boring. Half the day was whiled away on paperwork, and it was only on the rare occasion that they got to do any fieldwork. Harry had been hoping for a job that would keep him active and moving around, and instead, he had wound up at a desk job in the Ministry. He didn't think that he would take this job back if it was offered to him; he had enough money to never need to work again. "And I don't think that I really want to work here again, so don't bother offering me my job back."

Felix laughed, but it was not a particularly happy laugh. "Don't fool yourself, Harry. You may be famous, but I wouldn't hire you if McDougall himself told me to."

Harry felt insulted. "What do you mean? I can do the job."

"You can do the job, but so can so many others, without all of the attitude."

"What attitude?"

"The saving-the-world attitude, that we should all bow down and worship you. Believe me, Harry, I appreciate what you did, but that doesn't mean that we need to worship you for the rest of your life, certainly not when you turn into the drunk asshole that you've become."

Harry felt that it wouldn't be wise to punch him, but he certainly felt like it. Instead, he shook his head and took a deep breath. "Then why would you want me to look at anything? If I'm the awful person that you claim I am, and that I'm so unfit for this job, then why should I do anything for you?"

"You're not a teenager anymore, Harry. Stop acting like one."

Harry nearly pouted, and then remembered that that would be proving Felix's point. He took another deep breath and counted to ten in his head. When he was finished, he looked back up at Felix and forced a smile onto his face. "What do you want me to look at and why?" He was going to try to be civil to Felix, even if Felix didn't deserve it.

"Just some possible Death Eater sightings south of London."

There had to be more to it than that, but Felix had never been one for long explanations. "Lead the way," said Harry. It was, he suspected, going to be an extremely long day.

* * *

He was right. It had been five hours of the worst tedium he had ever encountered. Yes, terrible things were starting to happen again, but there was little that Harry personally could do to stop them that the rest of the Aurors could not manage. It baffled Harry why Felix had insisted he aid the Aurors, as they seemed to enjoy his company as little as Felix did. All it accomplished was to put everyone in an awful mood and lead to Harry nearly stomping out. The only thing that stopped him from doing it was the fact that Felix had specifically pointed out that he was acting childishly, and he didn't want to prove Felix right, even if he knew he was.

Finally, Felix came over to them and pulled him aside. "We're done with him for the day."

"So?"

"So, it's time for you to take him back."

"Why don't you just put him back in Azkaban? He's started talking again, so what's the big deal?"

"He isn't talking to us, though. You need to convince him to."

"I think that's what you told me to do before. In case you didn't notice, I'm hardly his confidante, and I don't want to be." Harry shuddered at the thought. He didn't even want to think about the things that were on Snape's conscience, and certainly didn't care to share the burden. "What if I don't want him in my house? You can't obligate me to take him." Harry crossed his arms over his chest and fought the pouting expression that wanted to come out.

When Felix spoke, his voice was quiet and firm. "Harry James Potter, you will take Severus Snape to your house, you will keep him there until such time as he has confessed and given us the aid we need. That is the ruling that was made, and we are simply obeying it. Now, it is time for you and Snape to return to your house, where you will talk to him about the importance of him confessing. Is that clear?"

"I can't MAKE him confess, Felix." Harry shook his head. "Why don't you just use Veritaserum? I'm sure you could get permission."

Felix gave Harry a look of disdain. "Of course we've already used it."

"And?" Harry was a bit lost now. "If you gave him some, he should have spilled his most closely guarded secrets by now."

"We long suspected that Lord Voldemort had concocted the vaccine for Veritaserum, and it appears that those fears were true. We got nothing from Snape, and that is why it must be made under his own power, of his own decision."

Harry shook his head. "Fine. Whatever. Where is he?"

"Right here?"

Harry turned around and saw Snape walking towards him. Snape appeared to be limping a little. "What's wrong?" he asked, but received no reply, not from Snape and not from the Ministry officials. Without waiting for the explanation that he knew he wouldn't get, he walked out of the office and to the elevator, not much caring if they followed.

Unfortunately, they did, and they took the Ministry car back to his house, where he was left in the growing twilight with one Severus Snape. As they were walking into the house, Harry tried again, "What did they do to you?"

Snape didn't say anything.

Harry felt like throwing a tantrum. Instead, he poured himself a drink. That was a much more grown-up thing to do. "Look, Snape. I know you're not catatonic. There's no point in you not talking to me. In fact, I'm probably the only person in the world that can help you right now?"

Snape silently helped himself to a drink and sat down before saying, "And how, Mr. Potter, would you be able to help me? Unless I am sorely mistaken, you are the reason that the Ministry questioned me today."

"Well…yeah, I phoned them last night. To tell them that you were talking. So you can't just go in there and not talk. You're making me look like a liar…you're making me look bad."

"Don't fret, Mr. Potter, we both know you are more than capable of looking bad all on your own." Snape drained his glass and then rose, a little unsteadily, to his feet. "If you will excuse me, Mr. Potter, I am going to retire."

"Are you okay?" Harry called after him half-heartedly. He wasn't much for healing magic, but he could give it a shot.

But he got exactly the response he had expected. "I am perfectly fine, Mr. Potter."


	5. The Row

**Chapter Five – The Row**

Harry had resolved to be sober for the following morning, so he had refrained from getting as drunk as he normally did. He considered this quite the accomplishment and felt that both Snape and the Ministry should be appreciative that he was going lighter on the alcohol than usual just for them. Somehow, he wasn't sure that they would see it that way, but in his mind, they should.

What this meant was that he was up well before the Ministry came knocking, enough time to cook himself breakfast and to shower and shave, so that he went to the Ministry looking a bit more put-together than he had the previous day. Once he had finished, he realized that he still had quite some time before the knock on the door, so he decided to settle for the news.

He wasn't really paying attention as he flicked through the channels, until he realized that they all appeared to be showing a similar scene. Now, he had long realized that there was never anything good on the television and that all shows started to blur into one another after a while, but for them to all be showing exactly the same picture at exactly the same time was perhaps stretching credulity a bit. So he stopped flicking on a random channel to hear just what was going on.

"We're coming to you live from Bristol, where something that has not happened since the days of You-Know-Who," said the reporter, an ashen-faced woman who looked as though she might just break down crying at any instant. The camera panned back over the ruins of a building that Harry didn't recognize. "Late last night, the Center for Wizard-Muggle Relations was burned to the ground. The Dark Mark was seen above it shortly afterwards, though it has since been removed by Aurors. The fear that this has struck into the Wizarding world is reminiscent of the fear that You-Know-Who inflicted during his first two reigns of terror over this country. Although he is widely believed to be dead, killed by none other than Harry Potter, Ministry officials who do not wish to be named have told us that there is a growing belief that You-Know-Who is still alive."

Harry didn't know what to think. An absurd part of him wanted to be angry that they didn't think he'd done what he'd done, and that he'd lost so many friends doing it. It made him want to scream and curse and throw something at the television. But he refrained from doing any of those things and simply watched and watched, taking it all in, and wishing that he wasn't hearing any of it. It just couldn't be true; they had to just be some diehard Death Eaters that didn't want to surrender yet and wanted to go out with a bang.

He had almost managed to convince himself of it when he heard a malicious laugh from the doorway to the living room. Turning in his chair, he saw Snape, as expected. "What do you want? What do you think is so damn funny?" Harry demanded, barely able to keep a lid on his rage. "People were killed last night, Snape. Don't you care about that? Don't you care about that at all?"

"Did you know any of them?"

"What? No, I didn't."

"Then why are they so important to you, Mr. Potter, savior of the Wizarding World. Or…perhaps not savior. Is that what is bothering you so much? That maybe you were wrong, that maybe the whole world was wrong, and you are to be outed as the pathetic wizard that you really are?"

"Shut up!" screamed Harry, getting to his feet. "How can you talk like this? How can you act like this? You might have…we might have all hated you, but they were real people, people with lives and families who didn't deserve to die, and you killed them. What right do you have to laugh about it? You're…you're a cold, unfeeling bastard!"

"Very good, Mr. Potter." Snape was leaning against the doorframe now, a smirk on his face. "Is there anything else that you would like to get off your chest, now that you're in the mood?"

"How dare…how can you act like this, Snape? How can you?"

"This is how I have always been, Mr. Potter. Spare me your teenage anguish, and spare yourself it. You can no longer act that way and expect people to ignore it. Grow up, Mr. Potter."

"Well…well, you're not acting like much more of an adult yourself." Harry knew that he was going to regret those words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but once gone, he could hardly recall them.

"In what way do you believe I am acting childish, Mr. Potter?" Snape's voice had grown darker and even less friendly, though it had not been at all friendly in the first place.

Harry cast around for something, and immediately hit on it. "Your silence. You're like a little kid who's done something wrong and doesn't want to just confess and admit what to you did, even when everyone already knows you did it. I can't think of anything more childish than that."

"You have no idea what my reasons for my actions were, Mr. Potter, but I can assure you that they were far from childish." Snape looked past Harry to the television. "How many died?"

"Sixteen."

Snape smiled. "Good."

"Good? Good! How is that good?"

"Sixteen less idiots in the world, Mr. Potter. And were I in possession of a wand, there would be one less even now."

"You…you would kill me?"

"Of course I would kill you. Were it not for this collar, I might well be able to kill you without a wand."

"You're bluffing."

"I do not bluff, Mr. Potter."

"Except, oh wait, for all those years at Hogwarts. When you fooled everyone into thinking that you were double-crossing Voldemort, when in fact you were triple-crossing him." Harry took a few steps closer to Snape and drew himself up to his full height. It wasn't quite as impressive as he had hoped it might be, as Snape was still a good bit taller than him, and had mastered that glare down to perfection.

"My reasons for all of my actions, Mr. Potter, as so far beyond your understanding as to be utterly incomprehensible."

"Then don't bother telling me, tell the damn Ministry, I'm sure they'd love to hear a reason for you killing Dumbledore and why all these Death Eaters have suddenly come crawling out of the woodwork. You owe it to the Wizarding world!"

"I owe them nothing, Mr. Potter. Giving my confession to the Ministry would be tantamount to signing my own death warrant, which I am sure even you can understand would not be in my best interests. As for explaining my actions to them, they are even less able to understand than someone such as yourself."

"Oh, and all this time, you gave the impression that I was the stupidest person that you had ever had to teach."

"Do not flatter yourself, Mr. Potter. You occupy no distinctive place in my mind, any more than any other mediocre student does. The truly and exceptionally awful I remember, as well as the rare few brilliant ones…but the rest fade into obscurity, as I am sure you will, once you are dead."

"Not likely." Harry took a few steps back, well aware that the imposing tactics were no longer working. "And let's think about this for a second, shall we? Who is more likely to be completely forgotten, you or me? What have you done, besides kill?"

A thin smile now crept onto Snape's face. "And, pray tell, Mr. Potter, what have you done besides kill? Or, as it seems, fail to kill? You cannot even claim that now, can you?"

"So you know Voldemort's still alive?"

The smile disappeared from Snape's face; something Harry did not fail to notice. "The great Harry Potter, Chosen Golden Boy of the Wizarding world, found out to be a fraud, found out to have gone through all he claims to have gone through, and did not even do what he claimed to do. Tell me, who do you think they will hate more, Mr. Potter, you or I?"

"You! You killed Dumbledore!"

"And you failed to kill Lord Voldemort. The man who you were paraded throughout the world as having killed. I think they will brush me aside in favor of hating you, Mr. Potter."

"They won't hate me!"

"There is your ego rising up again, Mr. Potter. That hunger for fame and praise undeserved."

"What do you mean, undeserved?" That was really too much for Harry. He had not gone through everything to have Snape mock him. Snape, of all people. "I suffered!"

"You are not the only one who has suffered in their lives, Mr. Potter. Though perhaps your egoism has removed that ability from you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go on about how awful of a life you've had, why don't you?"

"Unlike some individuals, Mr. Potter, I do not require the pity or sympathy of others. It is an ability you might be advised to acquire."

"I don't need sympathy or pity from anyone!"

"Is that so, Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah, it is." Harry sat down on the sofa again. He glanced at the clock; the Ministry officials would be here soon and then he wouldn't have to deal with Snape anymore. Or at least not for the rest of the day. And most certainly wouldn't have to continue this stupid conversation. Finally, he looked over, to find Snape still looking at him, a sneer on his face. In a calmer voice – something he was quite proud of – he said, "Why don't you just confess to killing him? We all know you did it. I saw you do it."

"This may have escaped you, Mr. Potter, but as soon as I confess, I will be killed. I am rather against that idea. There is nothing to convince me that confessing is in my favor, not even promises of your assistance, so there is little need for you try."

Harry sighed. Snape was even worse to talk to now than he had ever been. "Did you know about this attack?"

"You just told me about it, Mr. Potter."

"I mean, did you know before it happened, that it was going to happen?"

"And how, Mr. Potter, might I have known about it? I have been upstairs since I returned home yesterday evening and this," he fingered the thick collar, " rather prevents me from using any magic. Think before you open your mouth, and give us that much more silence, Mr. Potter."

Harry was lost for words. He wanted to hit Snape. In fact, if Snape didn't shut up pretty soon, he was going to hit Snape, and damn what the Ministry might say about it. Snape was deliberately provoking him – and Snape knew it – and there was only so much that Harry could take before he just snapped. Surely the Ministry would know that. Surely they wouldn't punish him for it.

"Trying to think of a nasty way to kill me, Mr. Potter? I am afraid that you lack that kind of…imagination."

"I do not!" Harry retorted, before he realized what he was saying. He shook his head. "I don't get off on sick, perverted things like fantasizing about killing people. But…if I could kill you, I'd…"

"You would what, Mr. Potter. Please do elaborate?" Snape walked over to the other sofa and perched on the arm, never once taking his eyes off Harry. It was extremely disconcerting.

Harry didn't know what to say. He hadn't really thought about it before he'd said it, and now it was something else for Snape to use against him. He was searching his mind for anything to say, anything at all, when a knock came at the door, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He looked up at Snape. "Time to go."


	6. Day Two

**Chapter Six – Day Two**

Harry didn't like to think about what he might have done if the Ministry officials had not shown up when they did. Things might really have gotten ugly, and he wouldn't have liked to explain it, once he calmed down. He was sure that the reprisal would not be worth the pleasure he'd get in smashing Snape's face in. But as soon as that thought occurred to him, he was horrified by it. How could he enjoy the thought of brutally hurting Snape? It was a very disturbing concept to him, and it troubled him through the drive.

What ultimately dismissed it was the chaos that he saw erupting at the Ministry. Since the attack, everything had clearly gone haywire, and no one was prepared for what was going on. Things only got worse when they entered the Department of Aurors and Harry could see firsthand where the confusion was originating. Normally a fairly quiet workplace, it was so loud in here that Harry probably couldn't have made himself heard by shouting. No one seemed to take the slightest notice of his and Snape's arrival, and it was only when he grabbed the arm of someone passing and told them that Felix eventually arrived.

"We're a bit busy today, Harry."

Harry smiled. "I would never have noticed. But I brought Snape, though I'll be quite happy to leave him here with you and go home."

Felix shook his head. "Afraid not, Harry. You're coming with me."

That worried Harry. "Where am I going with you?"

"MacDougall's called a meeting, and I'm bringing you along, as you're here. Maybe you can give us some insight on just what is happening. I trust that you've seen the news?"

"Of course I have. But…I don't see how I can help. I'm not…I haven't been around here for ages, not seriously, and all I know is what I saw on the news." Harry shook his head. "Really, I don't think I'll be much help at all. I'd rather stay here…"

"That's enough, Harry. You're coming with me."

Feeling as though some awful punishment was being inflicted on him, he followed Felix out of the Department and to the MacDougall's office. There were already a fair number of people there, most of who looked at him with a mixture of confusion and disdain. They all looked as though they wanted to say something to him, but mercifully kept their mouths shut. Harry didn't know what he would say to any of them, if they asked him anything about Voldemort. And he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't just lose it, and he didn't honestly think that that would help any of them.

It wasn't long after that McDougall began the meeting. Harry couldn't help but notice the lines of fear etched into Leroy's face. This wasn't something that Leroy could handle, and Harry hoped that everyone else in the room knew it. Things would go much more smoothly that way, than if they assumed that Leroy would just be able to take a leadership role.

Leroy looked at Felix. "Felix, if you could give us an update on the situation, please."

Felix, on the other hand, was the kind of man who gravitated towards power and knew how to manage it. Harry wasn't sure that he could win the respect or love of the people, but he wouldn't be afraid to make difficult decisions and would be more than capable of enforcing them. He might well rule the country with something bordering on an iron fist, but it might help in the short-term. The problem, Harry guessed, would be getting him to calm down and relinquish some of that power once the crisis was over. Else, he could become just as bad as that which he had destroyed.

Felix stood up. "Our latest information says that these were bona fide Death Eaters, old school ones that were never rounded up in the purges. Witnesses have identified a couple of them, and so we can only assume that this was truly a Death Eater attack. I don't know if this means that they are regaining strength and this is their way of showing that, or if they are losing it, and want to go out with a bang."

"What would your guess be?" asked Ginny, who looked as though she hadn't slept in ages. Harry felt sorry for her.

"Without Lord Voldemort, I can't see who the Death Eaters would be rallying around, and so I am inclined to say that it would be the latter."

Harry snorted.

The rest looked at him.

Felix glared archly. "Do you have something to say, Harry?"

Harry sat back and smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"Then be my guest." The look in Felix's eyes was pure venom.

"Why, thank you." Harry sat up and glanced around the table. "It's clear that the Death Eaters have been ramping up their attacks recently. That doesn't, to me, imply that they're falling apart. To me, it says that they've found a new source of strength and leadership, and they're rallying around that person. This is why we can't take this lightly and it must be dealt with right now. The rest of the old Death Eaters must be hunted down and imprisoned, if not executed. The newer ones must be located, and the same done to them. More than that, though, it is imperative that we find their new leader and ensure that he or she is dealt with most severely because the last thing any of us want is a new Dark Lord. We've had one of those too recently."

"Do you not think it could be Voldemort again?" asked Neville. His face was as pale as Harry had ever seen it.

Harry shook his head. "I killed Voldemort. I know that I killed him. You were there, Neville. You know that I killed him. Someone else is just using the network that Voldemort built up and is capitalizing on the terror that he inflicted." No one in the room looked convinced, so Harry stood up, ready to try to make his case more strongly. "I know that it has been a long time since I defeated him, but I assure you that I really did defeat him. My first victory over him, as a child, was inconclusive, because we never saw his dead body. This time, we did. He died, and there were no Horcruxes left to hold his soul. Voldemort is dead, and it is just someone else using his name and his group to make our lives miserable. I don't think that this someone else is as capable…if they were, why would they have to use something that someone else built up…"

"Could it be an old Death Eater?" asked Ginny. "Like, one of his Inner Circle, who took up his mantle once he'd died."

Harry shook his head. "Not unless there were some of them that we didn't know about. Unless I'm mistaken, all of them, save Snape, have been arrested and executed since Voldemort's defeat."

"What about Snape, then?" asked Leroy. "Could he be running all of this?"

"I doubt that he's running the whole thing from my spare bedroom," said Harry, winning a few smiles from the mostly-silent, fully-subdued audience. "He can't perform any magic, and he can't get out of my house. I strongly doubt that it is him. However, if you wish to be sure, you are welcome to imprison him in Azkaban for a time."

"His sentence, Harry, was to remain with you until he confessed," said Felix, smiling nastily. Harry knew that Felix enjoyed having Snape living with him. "That is where he will remain, unless outstanding evidence indicates that he should be treated otherwise. For example, if he confesses to killing Albus Dumbledore."

"And then he'll be executed." Harry couldn't imagine anyone deserving it more. "And if it was him, then you'll be proven right when everything falls apart. But if you're wrong, then we lose the most valuable source of information that we've ever had. Is that worth giving up, just for a little pride?"

"Why are you defending him?" asked Neville, who had clearly never gotten over his instinctive loathing of the man. "What has he done for you, for us, for anyone other than Voldemort?"

"I'm not saying that he's done anything good, but there's a chance that he might help us now, and if that chance exists at all, then it's our duty to make sure that we don't do anything to harm him. He shouldn't be killed right now, not even if he confesses." Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, Harry couldn't quite believe that he was saying them. He hated Snape as much as any of them, if not more, and yet he was still advocating keeping Snape alive. But for a good reason, he told himself. "We need him to help us."

"Why should he?" asked Ginny. "And why would he? What kind of incentive can we really offer him, and why would he want one? He was double-crossing Dumbledore for all those years, and I don't think he's ever shown any remorse for what he's done. No, he's black to the core, and nothing we do is ever going to change that. The safest and easiest thing to do would be to have him executed as soon as possible, so that we can see if he's the real cause." She looked at Leroy. "I think that you'd need to authorize that, can you see that it happens?"

Everyone was smiling and nodding, as though Ginny could not be more right. Harry was infuriated. Any sympathy he might have had for her vanished. "What are you talking about? Doing that might help, maybe, or it might make sure that we can't defeat whoever is leading them now." Harry shook his head. "I must object in the strongest terms to him being executed now, or at any time until the present crisis is over." He looked around. No one looked like they thought he was doing the right thing. In fact, some of them looked at him as though he were positively mad. "I just want to make sure that we fix this now, and don't have to live with it for years and years when we don't have to. Why won't any of you see what…what idiots you're being, and just realize what's happening."

Everyone was now looking at him very coldly, but he knew he couldn't apologize. If he did, everything he had said would lose all meaning.

They were going to kill Snape. It seemed almost inevitable now. But Harry knew what a mistake it would be. He hated Snape, loathed the man more than he thought he could loathe another person, but for the sake of everyone else, he couldn't be killed. Everyone else, though, was thinking in terms of how to look good to the public, and what the public would like, would be to see a top Death Eater executed. That would make them feel safe and secure. Then they would think that everything was under control.

And then the Ministry would come running to him when that didn't work and demand that he fix it, after taking away the only thing that he had at his disposal to fix it with.

He watched with dull resignation as they voted on it. He was the only one to vote against executing Snape. Then came the worst blow; that they were going to leave him with Harry until his execution date, rather than taking him to Azkaban. Harry was fairly sure that that was meant to punish him, too. But he didn't feel very punished. All he felt was a dim warning in the back of his mind that killing Snape would be the worst thing that they could possibly do. And it didn't look like there was anything he could do about it.

It seemed as though they had already told Snape, as he was even more silent than usual.

Harry had to figure out a way to fix this.


	7. When Things Go Wronger

**Chapter Seven – When Things Go Wronger**

"Which part of I don't work for you anymore, are you failing to understand?" asked Harry, hands on his hips, glaring at Felix. Felix, who had not even had the common courtesy to Apparate outside of his house and then knock, but had Apparated in his bedroom at two in the morning and had instantly expected Harry to be awake and alert. "And what part of, I deserve a bit of privacy in my life, do you also not understand?" He was out of bed now, dressed in pyjama bottoms, and decidedly not in the mood to get dressed and go to the Ministry. Because, as he had pointed out, he no longer worked there. "What could possibly be so important that you need to come and get me at this hour?" Then he realized that he'd not given Felix a chance to speak and so shut up, sat down on the bed, and simply glared harder.

Felix looked as though he had been up all night, and did not look even slightly affected by Harry's tirade. "It is your duty to do your part, Harry, like it or not."

"My part in what?"

"You need to come to the Ministry, right now." Felix's tone did not seem to indicate that Harry had a choice in the matter. "We need your advice, and we need someone to take charge."

It surprised Harry that Felix was willing to admit that, and it made him smile. "Why can't you take charge? You're Head of Department, one would imagine you'd be more than capable." That Harry did not think Felix was capable of being in charge of a small cat, let alone an entire Department or presiding over a crisis, was entirely beside the point.

"There is chaos in the Ministry right now, Harry. You need to come with me at once."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me just what's going on." Another objection presented itself in Harry's mind. "What about Snape? Do you propose just leaving him here?"

"The collar and wards were imposed upon him so that you could leave without having to watch him every instant. He will be fine, and we will make sure that people check up on him from time to time during the day."

"How very thoughtful." Harry gazed around the room, trying to locate his clothes. He was coming to accept the fact that he would be leaving with Felix, and as he didn't have time for a shower, didn't much see the point in putting on clean clothes. "Now, what's gone so wrong at the Ministry that you must stoop to asking for my help?" He could not help but grin as Felix's expression changed to one of great discomfort.

Felix did not seem inclined to answer the question, and instead looked around the room, at everything except Harry. Finally, he looked straight at Harry, took a deep breath, and said, "Leroy MacDougall has been kidnapped."

* * *

Harry received a quick and highly unhelpful briefing as he was being hurried through the hallways of the Ministry. The one thing he noticed was the panicked expressions on everyone's face – even during the worst months of Voldemort's terror, nothing like this had ever happened. Never before had the Ministry of Magic been snatched from right under their noses. Harry didn't think that it was that big of a loss, as MacDougall was hardly the right person to lead them through this, but he could admit that, in psychological terms, this was one of the worst things that could have happened. Everyone would quickly lose faith in the Ministry to fix things if they could not even keep the Minister of Magic safe.

Finally, he was out of the madness and into a quiet space. Quiet, of course, being relative, and only slightly less noisy than the mayhem that seemed to exist in the rest of the Ministry. It was still too noisy for him to think, and he was baffled by the number of people that were here at this hour. He wasn't properly awake yet, and was still trying to adjust to what was happening. Everyone kept talking to him and expecting him to be able to give intelligent answers, and he was about thirty seconds from screaming at them to just shut up so that he could hear himself think. But he managed to restrain himself and pretend to listen to each of them, even if he didn't have any idea what they wanted him to say.

Finally, when they seemed to realize that he was about a hundred feet out of his depth, they shut up and let him talk. "So," he said, "let me see if I've got things straight. Leroy MacDougall was working late here last night, and several people saw him right before midnight." Several nods. "And then, shortly before one, his personal assistant came in to see him, and he was gone." More nods. "And all efforts to reach him have failed, and that includes checking at his house?" He looked around at them. "Tell me, is it possible that he's just sleeping somewhere and we've not been able to find him because he's sleeping?"

"He's not in his house," said Felix. "That was the first place we looked."

"I know, you said that you'd looked there. But if he knew that that was where everyone would expect him to be, and wanted a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, might he go elsewhere to sleep?" Harry was speaking from experience; during the last few days before he had killed Voldemort, he had disappeared on several occasions to various locations just to close his eyes for ten minutes. No one had thought that he had gone missing, except for that one occasion…but that was another story entirely. "I think that maybe we're all a little overworked and underslept, and so we're overreacting to something that may not merit it. Will you at least grant that that's possible?"

When he had managed to convince them to at least wait a few hours before declaring an emergency and decreed that they should all go home and get some sleep, he was finally allowed to leave. He didn't hold out much hope that Leroy had just disappeared to sleep; he wasn't that cunning. But there was always the chance of it, and that was what Harry was clinging to. That, and he was really tired and hungover, and needed some sleep. So he gratefully Apparated back home and went to bed, fully expecting to be awoken in only a couple of hours by Felix.

To his surprise, when he woke up, it was nearly noon, and no one was standing over him, demanding his presence. He smiled to himself; clearly things had worked out for the best and Leroy had turned up. It merited a sigh of relief and a nice long warm shower before going downstairs to see what was happening on the news.

Snape was already awake and bustling around the kitchen. Harry watched him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what he was doing, but quickly gave up on it, and got himself a bowl of cereal. It seemed safest.

"What happened last night, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked up from his cereal, mouth full. It was a surprising question; how would Snape know what was going on? "Nothing happened. Why do you ask?"

"Because someone came to visit you and I doubt that, as I have lived with you for some time and seen no presence of one so far, that it was a girlfriend."

"It's none of your concern." That was certainly true, and this was definitely not something that he wanted to discuss with Snape. "I'm not taking you back to the Ministry today." It was a spur of the moment decision, and he didn't know why he'd made it.

"Why is that, Mr. Potter?"

Harry scrambled to find an excuse. "Because…I don't think that you ever intend to talk to them, do you?"

"No."

"Then why waste my time, your time, and the Ministry's time? We all know that Voldemort's back and it's only a matter of time until we have to kill him again. Only without you, this time, maybe we'll be able to do it a little quicker. Though, if you were to decide to help us, maybe we'd get it done completely…"

"Lord Voldemort is dead, Mr. Potter."

"What do you mean? How do you know?"

Snape's signature sneer as he walked into the living room, carrying a bowl of something. "Suffice it to say, Mr. Potter, that I know Lord Voldemort is properly dead and you were the one to kill him."

"So, 'what's happening now? Why is all of this happening?" When Snape remained silent, Harry continued, "You can't just tell me that and then not anything else. What is going on? You must know, it started well before you were arrested." But Snape remained silent and simply stared at him, as he had done when he had been refusing to speak at all. Harry shook his head. "Fine. You're completely impossible, and you've never been anything else." Meanwhile, the news that Voldemort was dead was something that he was going to have to inform the Ministry. Though they might not believe it, Harry did. He thought that Snape had sounded pretty sincere about it.

If only Snape would be this cooperative all the time, and just tell him and the Ministry what they needed to know. Harry could understand why he was reluctant to do it, but that didn't make him feel any better. Snape had an obligation to do it.

* * *

Things got worse as the day continued. Apparently, the only reason that he hadn't been called in the early hours of the morning again was that a consensus had been reached that he was absolutely useless. He wouldn't have disagreed with them, but it was annoying to know that he'd been wrong and that Leroy was definitely missing. Search efforts were already underway, but were hampered by the fact that they didn't want anyone to know that the Minister of Magic had gone missing. Harry could understand the reasoning behind it, but he thought that they might find Leroy a lot faster if every witch and wizard in the country was looking for the man. Then again, they didn't seem too inclined to take his advice. It was only him that had defeated, killed, Voldemort. That didn't count for anything, clearly.

They didn't seem to take much stock in his news that Voldemort was dead. Even though he had told them that the news was directly from Snape, that seemed to lower its credibility. "Of course Snape would say that he was dead, he doesn't want us looking for him," was Felix's reply. Harry had wanted to shout at him, but hadn't seen the point and simply decided to ignore Felix from here on out. The man was an idiot and certainly not worth his time.

Later that evening, Snape asked him if he'd told the Ministry. "Of course I have," was Harry's response.

"And they did not believe you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Mr. Potter, you have always been so painfully easy to read. They do not believe you because of what you have become, not because the information comes from me. They have always valued Death Eater information very highly, because when our lives are at stake, we will do anything to keep them."

"What are you saying?"

"They do not trust you, Mr. Potter."

"Why not? I saved them all from Voldemort, I kept them all alive!"

"Temper, temper, Mr. Potter. This is why they do not believe you. You are unstable, you are a disgusting drunk, and have generally bad-mouthed them for far too long. They will never believe anything you have to say, not unless you force them to."

"I don't care about them. I don't think the Ministry has ever been able to do anything useful, before or after I started working for them."

"On that, Mr. Potter, I think we can both agree."


	8. Worser to Worsest

**Chapter Eight – Worser to Worsest  
**

He had gone to Ron and Hermione's for dinner. It was a welcome escape from the strange new relationship that was developing with Snape. He wasn't sure that he liked it at all; the sort-of camaraderie that Snape seemed to be trying for. He didn't understand why Snape might be trying to do it, and Ron and Hermione were similarly stumped.

"Maybe he's trying to hypnotize you or something," said Ron. "You know, try to turn you over to his side. But he can't use the Imperius curse because of the collar, so he's trying any other way he can."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," said Hermione, slapping him on the arm. But it looked playful rather than aggressive. "Maybe Snape has just started to realize that he needs an ally and Harry's the only one that's around that he could enlist. Harry, I do think you should listen to him, and try to help him."

"I'm not helping that greasy git," was Harry's firm response. "He's done nothing but make my life miserable and I owe him nothing. Not with him dropping all these hints at every hour of the day and trying to win me over at the same time. It's not going to work."

"Right on, Harry."

Harry grinned at Ron. He should have known that he would be able to count on Ron for this kind of support. But then his face became serious again. "Don't suppose you've heard anything from the Ministry about MacDougall?" It was still being kept out of the news, and Harry was being kept out of the Ministry and so had no idea what was going on.

Ron shook his head. "Dunno, mate. They've still not been able to find him. We've all been pulled off our jobs to try to find him, but I don't think anyone's really hoping for much anymore. I mean, there's always a chance, but…well, things are getting bad now." He exchanged a look with Hermione.

"What?" asked Harry, looking from Ron to Hermione. "What's going on?' He hated being kept out of things like this.

"Well, seeing as who we are, and what we did last time around, Hermione and I figured that…if things are really going to happen all over again, that we're likely to be targets. So we decided, well…"

"We're sending the children to the countryside, to live with my aunt for a while," said Hermione briskly. "She's a Muggle and so are all her family. We think that they'll be safer there, and I don't want to put our children at risk by keeping them here. It's just not worth it."

"Is it really that bad, then?" Harry frowned as they nodded. "I mean, I only know what I see on the news, and that in itself is pretty bad, but I wanted to think…well, I guess, that we'd done it all once and we weren't going to have to do it again."

"Doesn't look like it's that simple," said Ron glumly.

"When are you sending them?"

"This Saturday," said Hermione. "It's the soonest we could do it. I know a lot of our friends are doing it as well. In that…well, it's pretty lucky that you don't have kids, Harry. You can bet that they'd be one of the Death Eaters' best targets."

"Yeah, never quite got around to it," said Harry. He had never really wanted kids, so it was no big deal. After seeing what Ron and Hermione's did to them, he was pretty glad that he'd never had any. "Well, I hope they'll be safe there, and I hope that this is all over soon. I don't think any of us want another long war."

Again, Ron and Hermione looked at each other. It was, Harry though, getting incredibly annoying.

"That's not what common opinion is," said Ron. "We don't even know who's behind it at all, and there's bound to be scores of new Death Eaters. It could take ages to round them all up."

Harry shook his head and restrained the urge to hit something. "This is just…it's not right! We won last time, we made it all better, we did it right! I know we did, we…we killed Voldemort, we lost so many of our friends, so many people! It's just…it's not fair that we'll have to do it all over again! How can they keep doing this to us, over and over and over again?" He let out a breath that was half a sob and turned away from the other two. This was all starting to be too much for him, and he didn't know why.

"We'll just have to do it again," said Ron. "We did it once, we can do it again. No problem, mate. They've not even got Voldemort and we've…we've got you." He tried to sound cheerful, but even Harry could see through it.

"Yeah…brilliant."

"Come on, Harry," said Hermione. She had developed a wonderful mothering voice, and on occasion sounded just like Mrs. Weasley, somehow mixed with the Hermione Granger that he had known for so many years. "I know that everything looks like it's falling apart right now, but that doesn't mean that you should fall apart, too. If you do, then that's just a victory for them. They want this to happen to you, and so you just have to make sure it doesn't."

"Easy for you to say."

"What are you talking about, Harry? We have children, and I'm terrified that they'll be killed because of what Ron and I did years ago. Ron and I have more to lose than you do, so don't try to act as though you're the suffering martyr."

Harry stood up. "I think I should just go home." What he wanted to do was to get drunk. That might, just might, make him feel better. At the very least, it couldn't possibly make him feel much worse. And he could get all of these nagging voices out of his head; voices that sounded much like Hermione.

* * *

Snape knew just how to make his day even worse. Really, it was the same as it had been when Harry was at Hogwarts. Then, it was almost as if Snape had been watching him, to know when his worst days were, and being particularly malicious on those days, just to make him miserable. Harry honestly wouldn't have put it past him, nasty old git.

Now, things were even worse. He was around the man for most of the day, and with Snape stalking in and out of rooms with no warning at all, the only place that Harry could be safe was in his bedroom. He didn't think that Snape would come in there. But he had never been comfortable getting drunk in bed, and much preferred to do it in front of the television.

Which mostly meant putting up with Snape, and just trying to drown him out. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. As he got solidly drunker, it got easier to ignore him, he had found. That was only incentive to get drunk as fast as possible, and maybe even to find the peace in passing out on the sofa. That was the ultimate victory; nothing Snape said or did could get to him then.

What was worse was when Snape didn't speak, but instead just stared at him, or stalked in and out of the room at unpredictable intervals. On those occasions, even when Harry screamed at him to stop, or, on one occasion, threw things at him, nothing seemed to deter Snape. It was so clear that Snape was deliberately trying to piss him off.

But tonight, Snape was just sitting there, on the other sofa, eating peanuts. He hadn't said anything since Harry had come home, for which Harry was grateful. Harry could do without hearing Snape's opinion of his friends, which he was sure Snape would be more than happy to offer.

It surprised Harry that he was the one to break the silence. "How did you know that something went wrong at the Ministry? It's not been on the news, and I've not told you. Something's going on Snape, and I want to know what it is."

"You can want as much as you like, Mr. Potter, but that does not mean I shall tell you." Snape's voice was perfectly calm and reasoned.

"I just want to know what's going on. Is that too much for you to tell me? I mean, you told me that Voldemort is dead. Don't I deserve to know more than that?"

"I hardly see why, Mr. Potter. What makes you think that you are worthy?"

"Worthy? What does it have to do with being worthy? Don't I just deserve to know?"

"This may come as a surprise to you, Mr. Potter, but not everything is immediately your right to know simply because you are the Boy Who Lived, or even because you killed Voldemort. That is all I have to say about that."

Harry knew that there was no point getting in another fight with Snape. It didn't ever get him anything and just put him in a foul mood. But it was all rising up in him, again. He knew that it was probably due to the alcohol, and dimly thought that perhaps he should try to limit his drinking. That thought was quickly brushed aside, though, and he said, "And what makes you the master of secrets, Snape? Why do you have any more right to know than I do?"

"Because, you stupid boy, I already know these things. I did not have to beg and whine to get someone to tell me them. Nor do I think that begging and whining are particularly dignified occupations for a grown man, so I advise you to cease right now, Mr. Potter."

"I'm neither begging nor whining!"

"It is not far from it." Snape smirked and put on a convincing impersonation of Harry's voice. "Snape, tell me what I want to know. Snape, please. Snape, you have to tell me. Snape, I need to know." Snape laughed. "I'm telling you that that will get you nowhere, Mr. Potter."

"It's your obligation to tell us what's happening! You know, and we need to know!"

"The Ministry would happily kill me, and I think that they would just as happily imprison you, Mr. Potter, so I don't think that either you or I need answer them anything."

Harry had a sudden flash of inspiration. "Then why don't you just tell me, and I promise that I won't tell anyone that you told me. I won't tell the Ministry, and I won't tell any of my friends. It'll just be like a secret between the two of us." He didn't know if Snape would believe any of that, or if it was even worth trying. Maybe if Snape was drinking. Unfortunately, he was not. He was just eating peanuts.

"Mr. Potter, do you believe that I am so abysmally stupid, that I would possibly believe something like that? The Golden Boy, Mr. Potter, would keep something from his precious Ministry or from the miscreants that you call your friends. No, Mr. Potter, unlike you, I am afraid that I have a brain and know when someone is attempting to fool me. Do not insult my intelligence, even though you have none of your own."

"If you don't, then I'll just tell them that you confessed to killing Dumbledore! They'll believe me, and then they'll execute you. Is that what you want, Snape?" Harry couldn't believe that he'd sunk to that kind of level. It was despicable, and he knew it. He almost felt dirty just for saying it. Part of him wanted to say that he didn't mean it at all, but the other part of him was just hoping that Snape would believe that.

Snape gave him a strange look. It only lasted a few seconds, before his face became blank, expressionless, and he left the room. Harry heard him walk upstairs, and dimly heard Snape close the bedroom door.


	9. Back Where We Began

**Chapter Nine – Back Where We Began **

Snape hadn't come out of his room by the following afternoon. Harry had never thought that Snape was the type to pout and sulk, but decided to go upstairs at just past lunch to see what was wrong now. What he didn't expect to see was Snape back in that rigid, catatonic posture that he'd been in for so long.

"No," said Harry. "You can't play this game with me again, Snape. I know that it was all a ruse last time, and so I know you're still faking it. You can't just…just go and do this because you're angry with me. It's such a childish thing to do." Harry stood in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest, and glared at Snape. Snape did not show any sign of having heard him, but Harry knew that he must have. "Fine, play your games. But you're welcome to get your own food. I'm not bringing it up to you…I'm not your servant." He slammed the door behind him and went back downstairs. With everything else happening right now, the last thing he needed was Snape not playing fair, again.

For some reason, he felt bound to report this to the Ministry, even though he wasn't sure that they even remembered that he had Snape. It took him ages to get through to Felix, but finally he was able to look the man in the eye and say, "Something has made Snape go catatonic again. I don't know what it was, but I can't get him to talk, or to do anything."

Felix frowned immediately. "What do you mean, he's just gone catatonic? What have you done to him?"

Harry nearly screamed, but controlled himself. "I've done nothing, Felix. I don't do things intentionally to provoke him, and so this is not my fault."

"You're protesting your innocence far too hard, Potter."

It had been a long time since Felix had called him Potter, and it brought along all kinds of negative associations. In a very quiet voice, barely controlling his rage, Harry said, "Look, I know that you're overworked there and you've got so much to do that you can't imagine ever getting it all done. I know that you're facing the return of Voldemort…or whatever, but that doesn't mean you've got to take it out on me!"

"I'm not taking anything out on you, Harry," said Felix, his voice firmly controlled. "I'm simply at a loss to understand how he could have…what did you say, gone catatonic, all by himself, without you having done something to cause it. Here's what I need you to do. Here's what I'm telling you to do. Get him out of the catatonia, and do it quickly."

"Why? What do you care? It doesn't matter what I do, you'll still hate me, and you'll still not listen to a thing I have to say! Just like you never have!" Harry was shouting now, and hated himself for it. Hated himself for being so weak to get angry at Felix now, but also hating himself for having been so weak years ago to have had a brief affair with him, which somehow now felt as though that was the cause of all bad feelings between him and Felix. He knew it wasn't; knew that things had been just fine in the months and years after it had ended, and had only grown worse since Snape had come into Harry's house.

Felix shook his head. "Harry, you're acting like a child. Call me back when you can talk like an adult, and we can have a civilized conversation." His voice was kind, and he sounded like he once had. Harry couldn't help but smile. It had been a good seven weeks, after all. A very good seven weeks, two days, four hours, and thirty-nine minutes. Not that Harry had been counting, of course. But then Felix's voice changed, and became distinctly less kind. "But get Snape out of that catatonia, and do it quickly. We both know that he'll be able to help us through all of this."

Harry nodded. "Any word yet on Leroy?"

"Nothing so far. You just focus on your bit and I'll on mine. I'll talk to you later."

Harry was still shaking his head as he went back upstairs to look in on Snape. As he had expected, nothing had changed. Part of him was immensely tempted to hit Snape and see if he did anything to defend himself. But he was too afraid for his own life if Snape turned out to not be catatonic. Gaunt though Snape might be, Harry had a strange feeling that he was well able to defend himself, even wandless. He stood staring at Snape for a few minutes, and then said, "You are the most impossible person I have ever met. I'm doing everything to help you, and you're doing nothing to help me. I've kept you alive when they could easily have executed you. I've not…Snape, I don't know what more you want of me. I've done everything anyone could possibly expect of me. Why do you want more? I just don't know what else to try."

Then Harry shut up. If Snape wasn't really catatonic, then he didn't want Snape to use this all as ammunition against him later. He had already given Snape far too much and was none too eager to do it any longer. So he left the room. If Snape felt like getting up and being a real person again, he was more than welcome to. Until then, Harry was going to let him sit and sulk. Or sit and be catatonic. But whatever, Harry was not going to feed him and was not going to even acknowledge him until Snape decided to be a proper person again. Harry thought that perfectly fair, and decided that Snape wouldn't be able to keep up this act very long without food or water. It seemed like the perfect plan.

Four days later, that plan had folded into miserable failure. Harry didn't see how Snape could still be alive, and was quite sure that none of the food was missing from his fridge. So, somehow, Snape wasn't eating or drinking and after four days, still showed no signs of suffering. Other than the catatonia, of course.

So he did what he tended to do when he had a crisis on his hands. He called Hermione over to take a look at Snape. Even though she hadn't been able to fix Snape the last time, maybe she had come up with something by now.

She took a long time inspecting Snape. Unlike Harry, she had no fear of touching him to examine him, and as she did, Harry noticed mostly-healed bruises and cuts that he knew came from Snape's two days at the Ministry. It nearly made Harry sick. That wasn't what Snape deserved. Not even Snape. But he didn't say anything about it, and neither did Hermione. Finally, she was finished, and they went back to Harry's living room to talk.

"I don't know what's wrong with him, Harry. Did you say that he's not been eating."

"Not that I know about, yeah."

"Are you giving him food? I mean, giving him the opportunity to eat if he wants to?"

"No. That's the point. I'm not. When he gets hungry enough, he'll snap out of it. That seemed reasonable to me."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, you're being an idiot. Snape isn't doing this just because he feels like it."

"Then why is he doing it, if you're so smart?" Harry started to pace the living room, looking eagerly at the whisky bottle that was sitting on the table. As soon as Hermione left, he could make a good start on it.

Hermione followed his gaze and frowned. "Your drinking habit aside, which is something that needs to be taken care of, you're treating Snape like…like he's not even human!"

"I know what he's doing. He's trying to wind me up, or playing some sick little game, and I'm just refusing to take any part in it. I'm not going to let him win, and I think that he needs to know that."

"Harry! This isn't about winning or losing with _Snape!_ This is about bigger things, and we need Snape on our side."

Harry managed to laugh at that. "Because last time we thought Snape was on our side, that did us so much good, didn't it? Face it, Hermione, the man is never going to help us, no matter what we do for him or promise him. That's why I'm doing this, so he knows that, so that he can stop this of his own free will, when he's had enough. I'm not denying him food, I'm just refusing to play his games. That's all." c

"Did it occur to you, Harry, that it might just be for real?'

"If it is, why isn't he already dead by now? Or at least suffering?" Harry stopped pacing and headed for the whisky. It somehow had stopped mattering that Hermione was there. He needed a drink and there was nothing that Hermione could do to stop him.

Except that she took her wand out and Summoned the bottle over to her as soon as it was in his hand. She got up and emptied it down the sink in the kitchen, despite Harry's protests.

"Harry, I think we're going to have to have a talk. Come and sit down." Hermione's voice was not very friendly, and Harry sensed that he was not going to enjoy this talk. But he followed Hermione anyway. When she was in this kind of mood, it was both stupid and dangerous to not do as he was told. "First, you are going to stop drinking. You're clearly an alcoholic, and that's not something that any of us want for you. If we have to sit here and watch you to make sure you don't drink, we will. Though I'm sure there's a charm that…" she looked thoughtful for an instant. "Anyway, that we can deal with later.

"But there's a more urgent issue. And that's the fact that you've got another human being to care for. I don't care that you don't much like him. I don't like him that much either, to be perfectly honest. That doesn't mean that you can treat him like this, though. You have to treat him like you would any invalid…because that's what he is…"

"No, he's a scheming, greasy git. That's all he is, Hermione, it's all he ever was and it's all he'll ever be. You just don't seem to think that people don't change. Snape's one of those people that don't. He's going to be like he was forever, and there's nothing we can do about it."

"It's an attitude like that that will make sure he doesn't. But that's not even the point, Harry. The point is that you have to help him get better or he's certainly not going to have any incentive to do anything you want when he wakes up. Now, I'm sure it's a curse of some kind, and I'm going to see if I can figure out what, but in the meantime, I do need you to keep him alive."

"Do you mean I've got to feed him?"

"Did you have to last time?"

Harry shook his head.

"Did he eat?"

"I…uh, I think so."

"Then that's fine. Just do what you did last time and maybe that will be good enough for him. But you can't just do what you've been doing, ignoring and neglecting him. You'll kill him if you keep doing that."

"And what a shame that would be."

"Harry James Potter, I would have thought that you would have more respect for life than that."

"I have plenty of respect for life. Just not Severus Snape's life. I don't see why I should respect his life, when I think he'd kill me as soon as look at me."

Even Hermione didn't have an answer for that one.


	10. The Speech

A/N: Halfway through! Thanks for all the reviews. I hope/think in this chapter that Harry does "grow up" a little bit. Let me know what you think.**  
**

**Chapter Ten – The Speech **

Harry didn't have much time to worry about Snape for the next few days, save making sure that two meals a day were provided (meals that were, bizarrely, eaten). But he could devote no efforts to actually trying to bring Snape out of his catatonia, because far too much else was going on, and he would have given anything for a drink. But Hermione had charmed the house to not permit any drinking alcohol inside, and Harry had no ida what the countercharm was. It was true that he could go to the bar, but Ron seemed to be there in the evenings to make sure he wasn't. It looked as if Hermione was serious about getting him to stop drinking. And as good as her intentions might be, it still annoyed Harry.

That was really the least of his problems, though. It was only two days after the conversation with Hermione that Felix turned up in his house again. Again, it was in the middle of the night, and this time, Harry was even less inclined to go with him. He didn't even want to get out of bed, and so remained there while Felix shouted at him. For what, Harry didn't quite know, but he didn't really care, either.

When Felix finally calmed down, Harry asked him why it had been necessary to do this in the middle of the night instead of during the day, like a normal person.

Felix frowned. "Because that's not the only reason I came to talk to you."

"Oh yeah? So what's the other reason, then? That you like annoying me by waking me up at this hour?"

"We…well, we found Leroy."

Harry raised his eyebrows. That didn't sound too positive. "Where did you find him? And is he…well, is he alive?"

"No, he's not alive." Felix looked at the ground and then back at Harry, who was lying snugly in bed. "And it's going to cause even more uproar than we had feared. I mean, him being dead is bad enough. We can't hide that forever. But…how and where he was found…maybe we can keep that covered-up, but I doubt we will be able to forever…"

"Stop babbling, Felix. Where did you find him?"

"In his office, in his chair, propped up like he was working. His back was to the door, and from there…well, he looked like he could almost be alive…but turned around?" Felix visibly shuddered. "He's probably been dead since the night he disappeared. And bodies decompose pretty quickly."

Harry frowned. He was glad he hadn't seen that. "Okay. So what are you going to do about it? Are you going to make a statement to the press? And what are you going to do about a new Minister of Magic?" For it being so late, he was surprised how well his mind was working. He refused to believe that it was the fact that he hadn't been drinking. That had nothing at all to do with it.

Felix shook his head. "That's not what I came here to talk about."

"Then what?"

"We need you to make a statement. You need to be the one to tell the public that they've got nothing to worry about. You're Harry Potter…they'll believe you if you tell them that. They won't necessarily believe the Ministry, if we do it right after we tell them that the Minister of Magic was abducted, murdered, and then returned to his office. It doesn't look very good."

"So, what are you going to do? Make the statement, and then throw me on right after to make a speech about how wonderful everything will be? Another Minister of Magic tried to get me to do that, a long time ago, when I was still in school. I didn't do it then, and I won't do it now. I'm not a puppet for the Ministry to use." Harry still felt surprisingly calm. He wasn't even close to raising his voice. "I've never wanted to be a puppet for the Ministry to use, and so I'll let you deal with the fallout from it by yourself. After all Felix, you were the one that fired me. What do I owe you, or the Ministry?"

"Harry, we need your help. Do you want your job back? You can have it. Just make this statement for us. We'll not be able to do anything if everyone is panicking. We need to keep people calm while we sort this all out. You can do a great deal towards making people calm, and making them feel as though everything will be okay."

"So why did you need to tell me this in the middle of the night?" Harry wasn't sure that he was going to agree to it, but it did seem like a pretty tempting offer. He was starting to get bored, sitting around the house, not doing anything. Now that Hermione had taken away his alcohol, all he had to do was watch television, and that got pretty boring.

"Because I don't want everyone to know that we're coming to you for help. It doesn't make us look very good."

Harry sat up properly in bed. "So you want me to make a statement, but I'm to make it independently, so it doesn't look like you told me to, and you don't want them to know that I'm at all involved with the Ministry? So why give me back my job? That will just make me look like a Ministry pawn, won't it?"

"Will you or won't you make a statement?"

Harry smiled. "I will, on one condition."

"What's that?"

"That I write the speech, and I can say whatever I want, and you have no control over that. If it's my independent statement, it's my independent statement."

"But you could say…anything."

"I could say anything. But I'm not doing it unless you agree to those conditions." Harry grinned; he was already starting to write it in his head.

Felix only thought about it for a few seconds and then said, "Okay, Harry, say whatever you want. But you're not getting the job back unless it actually does something to help us. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

* * *

It had been quite a while since he had made a speech of any kind, but he wasn't feeling that nervous. Instead, he was feeling more prepared for this speech than he had for nearly any other, and for the first time in ages, actually felt like he was doing something useful. He did feel pretty awful because he'd not had a drink in days, but Hermione had found a charm that would reduce some of the effects to make it easier for him to concentrate on what he was doing.

The speech was being broadcast live, which meant that there was probably nothing they could do to stop him, short of pull him off the air. But that would be a noticeable Ministry intervention, and the Ministry would lose even more stature and credibility among the Wizarding world. Earlier in the morning, they had made their statement about Leroy, and public opinion polls were already telling the story: the people had lost faith in their government; if they couldn't even keep their Minister alive, then what chance did the rest of the population stand.

And now Harry was the one that was supposed to fix it all. As usual.

"I know you all heard earlier today, as I did, that Leroy MacDougall was murdered by Death Eaters. I don't think that the Ministry spokesman went as far as to say that it was Death Eaters that did it, but I assure you that it was. They are back, and they are trying to do what they have always tried to do. They are going to try to break down our way of living, and they are going to try to make us lose hope. They want to purge us of everything they see as foul and wrong and unclean, and they want to bring us under the iron fist. They want to lord over us, they want to be our masters and us, the slaves.

"I know that hearing about Death Eaters after so many years will alarm you, as it alarmed people when I was a teenager, and Voldemort had come back. You were scared, you refused to believe it was true, and waited until you had proof, right in your face, that he was back, before you were willing to. Countless lives were lost because of your unwillingness to take the word of someone renowned and respected, like Albus Dumbledore."

"I'm nothing like him, and I don't hope to be half of what he was, but I did fight in the last war, and I am, supposedly, the chosen one. Whether or not you believe that, that's your choice. But I'm here today to tell you what is happening. If you need proof, I cannot give it beyond what you have already seen. I ask you just to remember that getting that proof can cost hundreds of lives, when action could have been taken sooner.

"Here is what I know. Voldemort is dead. I have someone who I believe, who has told me this. Voldemort is properly dead and he is never coming back. That means that we never have to fear him again. He is gone. But that does not mean all of his followers are gone as well. They may well have elevated someone to be their new leader. This person, though, will not command nearly the fear that Voldemort once did.

"Voldemort, for whatever it is worth, was a great wizard. A terrible one, but a great one. His command of magic was second to none, and that is why he was so powerful, and so feared, and rightly we feared him. But we defeated him, this powerful wizard. The one who stands in his stead now, is not him, is not as powerful as him.

"Yes, they have frightened all of us by killing Minister MacDougall. I don't deny you your right to be scared. But there is no reason for you to panic. There is no reason for you to think that the end is nigh, that we are all about to fall under the rule of a new Dark Lord. We are not. This is what they want us to believe, they want us to be scared.

"In our fear, all we would be able to do is cower and hope for the best. Fear robs us of our ability to fight, and they know, these Death Eaters, that we are stronger. That is why they want us afraid. If we are afraid, they will win. It is only through denying them that, that we can be victorious.

"We don't need to be afraid. We are stronger, we are better, and we will defeat them. That is a foregone conclusion. It is only a matter of time.

"I was not told to say this. These words were not given to me by the Ministry. I am speaking as Harry Potter, as the man who killed Voldemort, and as the man who will stand up to fight against these Death Eaters, because all they want to bring is terror and death. That is not something I am prepared to live with. That is not something any of you should be prepared to accept.

"We can do better. We have done better, and we will do better. All that we need to do is fight them, and never fear them. Never fear them. They are here, but that does not warrant us cowering and believing that they are going to win.

"They will never win. Evil can never triumph. It is easy to destroy. That is what they are good at. But it is hard to build, hard to create what we have created since the fall of Voldemort. I'm not willing to let all of that fall apart. And neither should you." a


	11. Better off Dead

a/n: a little implied slash here. Nothing explicit/graphic

**Chapter Eleven – Better off Dead**

Hermione had taken to hovering. Evidently convinced that Harry was not properly taking care of Snape, she took it upon herself to make sure that Snape was fed several times a day and Harry had the sickening feeling that she'd even tried to bathe him. No matter how needy and desperate Snape was, Harry would never do that much. The thought made him nauseous. But he had no objection to Hermione doing it; she seemed to need someone to mother now that her children had been sent away. The only irritant was her constant lectures on everything that he should be doing. While in Hogwarts, he had grown used to them, but now they were plain annoying. He was a grown man, and was quite capable of taking care of himself.

His speech had won him a lot of adulation that he'd not even missed until he started getting again. Felix welcomed him back to the Auror force and claimed that he was well-needed. He certainly immediately began to pull sixteen-hour days, and only returned home when Felix dropped in to tell him that it was probably time to get some sleep. The solicitous tone of Felix's voice made Harry wonder, on more than one occasion, if Felix had some ulterior motive. It wasn't that Harry would particularly object to resuming the fling, but not with Snape in the house and Hermione in and out at all hours. But as long as Felix never brought it up, neither would he.

Snape seemed just as unresponsive as he ever had, and Harry knew that Hermione was spending hours scouring every reference that she knew of to find a countercharm. Personally, Harry wished her good luck but didn't think that she would meet with much success. She had far too much faith in the ability of books to solve all problems, when he knew firsthand that books only solved the easy ones. The hard ones had to be solved with brains and wit and courage. None of which he thought he possessed in any extraordinary amount, no matter what anyone else told him.

Death Eater attacks were getting worse and more frequent. It was nearly as bad as during the period of after Voldemort's second return. Fear was running rampant, though Harry felt that his speech might have helped a little bit. People were still trying to do their bit to keep things normal, and the Ministry was trying to run itself without a Minister of Magic. Though everyone thought that a new one should be appointed post-haste, no one could really agree on who it should be, and so it was being run by a mash of Heads from a variety of Departments. Harry was often brought into these meetings and found himself unsurprised that nothing was ever accomplished in them. He knew that the Wizarding world needed one leader that they could unite behind, one leader that could guide them all to victory. But he had no idea who that person should be.

He was working another late night, the last one at his desk, as was typical. He had a tendency to throw himself into his work, and this seemed like the most important thing that he had done since killing Voldemort. It was the most important thing, really, and it deserved far more of his time than Snape, who was being taken care of by Hermione anyway (at that moment, Harry wondered what Ron thought of the whole setup), when Felix came by, as always.

"It's nearly eight, Harry. Don't you want to get home?"

Harry looked up and inadvertently cracked his back as he turned to face Felix. The turnaround in Felix's attitude towards him was welcomed and it, for some reason, gave Harry a burst of self-esteem whenever Felix was friendly. "I just want to finish this up." Harry gestured vaguely at his desk.

"If it's that you really don't want to go home, then we could always go out for a drink."

Harry smiled. There was a warm feeling in his stomach, and he wanted more than anything to say yes. But he couldn't. "No, I'm sorry. Hermione Weasley has been trying to get me to stop drinking. She'd have a fit if I did." He shrugged apologetically. "But really…that's the only thing stopping me." He was suddenly and acutely aware of the fact that they were the only ones in here.

The time it took Felix to cross the distance between the door and Harry's desk was enough to make Harry gasp slightly when Felix's hand came down on his shoulder. "We don't have to get drinks, you know," said Felix.

It would be so easy to say yes. Felix's blue eyes were starting to stare right through him, and that had always had the effect of making Harry absolutely defenseless. He was tingling all over, and a part of his brain was screaming at him to take what he could get, that it had been months and months since he had last had sex, and Felix was as good as anyone. But the more sensible part of his brain was telling him not to, and that to go home with Felix tonight would be a mistake. Harry didn't want the rational part to win out, but it was seeming more and more likely. He started to shake his head.

"Come on, Harry. We'll have a good time. I think we both deserve it." Felix's hand swept up from his shoulder to brush against his cheek and started to play gently with Harry's hair. "Can't work all the time, you know. You deserve to have fun."

Harry stood up abruptly. He was a few inches shorter than Felix. He had always liked men that were taller than him. They were standing so close that Harry could feel him without even touching. He could hear Felix's steady, even breathing, and it was one of the most relaxing things that he'd heard in ages. That was what ultimately made up his mind.

LINE BREAK

They didn't talk about it in the morning; they never had. The only conversation was the shared smiles and glances as they bustled about Felix's kitchen; Felix trying to get coffee and Harry hunting around for some cereal. The familiarity that Harry felt in this house did not quite match with the casual nature of their relationship, but it was very comforting to be here with Felix, even if nothing needed to be said between them.

After they had both eaten breakfast, Harry had to Apparate back home; he needed clean clothes and he and Felix were completely different sizes, else he might have been tempted to borrow something of Felix's. The house was as quiet as ever, and Harry expected that Snape was still sitting upstairs, waiting for something.

On the side by the sink, he found a note in Hermione's handwriting.

"I don't know where you are tonight, Harry," the note read, "and I really hope you're not out drinking, or I'm going to be very angry with you." Harry smiled; he had at least obeyed Hermione, and he didn't think that casual sex was on her list of proscribed things-to-do. He continued reading. "But I think I've figured out the countercharm for Snape. I didn't try it while you weren't home, but I want to come and see you this evening so that I can try it. Hermione."

Harry was sure that his response was supposed to be some sort of happiness, but he couldn't quite bring himself to feel it. All having Snape up and walking would mean, would be more of these confrontations that he was getting so tired of. There were more enjoyable ways to spend one's evening; spending it with Felix was one of them, and he was certain that he would never hear the end of that from Snape, if Snape were to find out that that was how he was spending his time.

Forcing his thoughts away from that, though, he showered and found clean clothes and managed to even be smiling with the thoughts of last night by the time he arrived at the office. He and Felix were exchanging secret, stupid smiles with each other all day, whenever they passed, and Harry reminded himself, several times, that he was no longer a teenager, and should probably try acting like an adult, for once. But he was allowed to be silly-happy if this was the first time he'd been properly happy in months, wasn't he?

He would have liked to do it again that night, but he guessed that he should go home and see if Hermione was right. He suspected that she was; it was rare that she was wrong about anything. If this was one of the rare instances, Harry intended to kick her out immediately and go to visit Felix; he had already mentioned that it was a possibility to Felix, who had looked elated.

Hermione was already there when he got home, and was full of questions for him, sounding, again, like Mrs. Weasley. "Where were you last night?"

"Why is that any of your business, Hermione? I was out with a friend, and I didn't get back until late. I'm sorry that my schedule doesn't fit to yours." But he wasn't angry with her, and he made sure his tone didn't suggest it.

She looked as contrite as he had hoped. "I'm sorry, but I was so excited to find the countercharm, and then you didn't come home." She shook her head. "But never mind, you're home now, and so we have to try it. Come on upstairs."

Wearily, Harry followed her. Under his breath, he was wishing with all his might that this was going to fail. He didn't need a perfectly animate Snape wandering around his house again.

By the time Harry made it to Snape's bedroom, Hermione was ready, wand poised. "Well, get on with it, then," said Harry, standing by the door. He was trying to look bored and uninterested in what was going on. Hermione began a series of complicated wand movements, and started to mutter under her breath. She was frowning, concentrating hard, and Harry suspected that this was a fantastically difficult countercharm that he wouldn't dream of trying even in his wildest dreams. Whatever she was doing, though, didn't appear to be having much of an effect on Snape, who remained as motionless as ever.

Finally, Hermione stopped, and Harry allowed himself to think that Hermione was wrong. Hermione certainly had that defeated look on her face that Harry had only seen a rare few times.

But then Snape flopped back on the bed, hitting his head with a resounding crack on the headboard, and slumped down into the pillows. He began to moan softly, though whether it was from whacking his head or something else, Harry didn't know.

"Harry, get him some water, he's trying to talk," hissed Hermione.

Harry took his time getting it; he was in no hurry to hear what Snape had to say. He didn't see why Hermione cared so much that she was practically holding Snape's head in her lap as she let him drink the water, and gave him back the glass with a rather poisonous glance.

"What?" he mouthed, setting the glass down on the nearest flat surface; the floor. Then he walked over to where Snape was lying and stood over him. Snape was definitely not catatonic anymore, and appeared to be trying to talk.

"What is it?" asked Hermione kindly. She was the perfect combination of Healer and mother, and Harry was of the opinion that Snape deserved no such kindness.

Snape looked at both of them. There was terror in his eyes; the blind terror of someone who was sure that they were about to die at any instant. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and soft, almost too soft for either of them to hear.

"Kill me. Please, kill me."


	12. The Worst Day

A/N: Very sorry for the delay, I've been busy getting an apartment. I'll catch up over the coming week.

**Chapter Twelve – The Worst Day**

Harry knew that he should really be getting used to the being woken up in the middle of the night. But it was getting tiring after the third or fourth night in a row, and he could do with a full night's sleep, just for once. The fact that it was Felix that was coming to wake him up really didn't make up for it. It was still robbing him of a proper night's sleep.

Things over the past five days had grown increasingly dire. The Death Eaters were growing increasingly audacious and there were at least a dozen attacks a day. A majority of them were on Muggles, but there were a fair number of witches and wizards being killed; at least a handful of them each day. It was far worse than what had been happening during most of Voldemort's first two reigns, and it didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon.

Harry, for one, didn't see what was being accomplished by dragging him out of bed in the middle of the night. Yes, he could go down to the Ministry and see what was happening along with everyone else, but he could do that after the sun had risen, and no harm would have been done.

They only rarely caught Death Eaters; they seemed to have taken up a new policy of committing suicide before being caught. It was making things very difficult for the Ministry; without any prisoners, it was going to be impossible to establish who was in charge of things and where they were. In short, if they couldn't start catching prisoners, it was going to be very hard to stop all of this from getting worse.

This particular morning, Felix looked very distraught. Harry was quite sympathetic; he knew how hard Felix was being worked, and knew that answers were being demanded. Felix was trying to keep everything under control, but it was slowly slipping away, and even Harry had no ideas about what to do next.

"What's going on?" he asked, trying to stifle a yawn, as he got out of bed in search of clothes. It was futile to hope that he was going to be able to go back to bed, but if he came down to the Ministry right now, he might be able to steal an hour later on to come back and shower.

Felix shook his head and looked at his feet. "This is hard for me to tell you, Harry."

At that, Harry's heart sank and he tried to keep his voice under control. In a strangely calm tone, he said, "Who has been killed?" He could feel his heart racing as he pulled on a shirt and he found himself making a list of his friends in order of most importance to him; something that he dismissed almost instantly, as soon as he realized how awful it was.

"There was an attack on the Weasleys." Felix took a deep breath, as though to allow that to sink in. "Ginny…Ginny was killed, and Ron is in Mungo's right now. Hermione appears to be fine, but Ron's condition…it's not so good…Harry? It's…well, it's not that it's going to be alright, but we need to…you need to…"

Harry turned away from him and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The tears were rising up in him and once he was alone, he didn't try to stop them. What he could do was cry silently, so that Felix wouldn't know what he was doing.

Ginny. Dead. Harry found all of his memories of her flashing in front of his eyes. The little girl he had known, who had been absolutely terrified of him and who had a huge crush on him. The girl that he had dated when they were both older. The woman who had stood at his side when they had fought Voldemort for the last time. The woman who had risen quickly in the Ministry and who he would not have been surprised to see as Minister of Magic someday. Now she was dead.

Ron. His first friend. His best friend. Fun-loving, hilarious Ron. Not dead. But from the way that Felix had said it, it didn't sound great. Ron might still die.

After a minute, Harry wiped his eyes and walked back out of the bathroom. When he spoke, he was surprised to hear how steady his voice was. "Okay. Were they the only two casualties?" He remembered that Hermione had sent the children out to Muggle relatives and found himself grateful for her forethought. They weren't his children, but they were the closest he was ever likely to get.

"Yes, in that particular attack. Ginny took out a couple Death Eaters, and same with Ron and Hermione. Harry…I won't make you come into work today. You can go to Mungo's to visit Ron. I'm not as coldhearted as all that."

Harry shook his head. "I…I really do appreciate that, Felix, but sitting by Ron's bed isn't going to help him. He's got Hermione there for emotional support, and I know she's not going to leave his side until he's out of there. What I can do, is go into the Ministry and make sure that I end this, for both of their sakes and for everyone that has already been killed. Which do you think would be more productive?"

"It's your choice, Harry. I'll understand if you don't come in today."

"Do you not want me to come in now?"

Felix shook his head again. "No, I just thought that you would rather know this now. Give yourself an hour or two and come in later. Or don't. Give yourself some time to think about it, even go down to Mungo's for an hour or two and then come into work." With that, Felix Disapparated.

Harry stood in his room for a second and then walked down the hall to Snape's room. Snape was still sleeping, and while Harry wanted to wake him up and demand that Snape give him answers this time. Now this was very personal.

But he knew that Snape wasn't going to give him the answers that he wanted. Snape, over the past three or four days, since Hermione had found that charm, had been increasingly weak rather than stronger, no matter how much food he was given. He repeatedly asked to die, though would give no reason for it. He refused to answer any questions that Harry or Hermione put to him, and simply asked to die.

He was the only key they had to figuring this out, though. For that reason, and that reason only, Harry wasn't willing to grant Snape's wish. After this was all over, unless Snape did something to change his mind, Harry would be perfectly happy to kill Snape himself.

Except…looking at him now, sleeping, Harry wasn't so sure that he would be ecstatic to take someone's life. He had done enough killing in the past and while it was pretty fair that Snape deserved some sort of punishment, Harry didn't want to be the one to give it. Harry had brought Snape into his home and cared for him and put up with him. It was true, Snape showed little in the way of gratitude, but that was never something that Snape had been big on.

"Do you want something?"

Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts and focused on Snape. Snape had opened his eyes and was now staring at him. "I just…I just came to see if you wanted to tell me anything. But…well, I know you won't. It's just that…Ron and Ginny were attacked and so…"

"So it is personal now, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded. He couldn't take much of Snape right now, but there was the chance, the faintest glimmer of a chance, that Snape wouldn't be his usual self and would actually give him something useful. "Exactly. So…I was wondering if…"

"If that changed anything? It does not, Mr. Potter." Snape closed his eyes and turned away from Harry to face the window.

"I'm going to be gone all day. Is there anything I can get you?" Harry didn't feel like being civil, but he was doing his best to follow Hermione's orders, which were along the order of it being easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar.

"Kill me."

"You know I'm not going to do that. Is there anything else I can get for you?" When Snape didn't say anything, Harry left the room. Where he knew he should be annoyed at Snape's obstinacy, now he felt something different. Snape had never seemed particularly eager at the thought of death, to the point where he refused to confess to something everyone knew he did, and now he was asking for it at every opportunity. Harry knew that there was more to this than met the eye, and knew that he was so close to realizing it. Like a word on the tip of the tongue, this knowledge was on the tip of his brain.

* * *

The day passed in a haze. After leaving Snape, he did go to Mungo's, where he found a Hermione unlike any that he had ever known. The Hermione he had always known had been the strong one; she had been the one who had always offered a shoulder to cry on. Now he found her on his shoulder, and he realized, not for the first time, just how much she loved Ron. She didn't want to talk much about what had happened, and after a minute or two, gave up the clinical distance that she had gained from the information from the Healers. There was a chance that Ron would live, and so Hermione was going to be here with him until he was better. Harry promised to visit daily and promised that he would make all of this end. Harry really wasn't sure which of those made her happier.

At work, everyone looked at him strangely. He was the first one for whom this had become very personal, and everyone tiptoed around him, as though he was just going to break. What they didn't seem to remember was that last time around, he had lost too many friends to count, and the time before that, he had lost his parents. Loss at the hands of the Death Eaters was really nothing new for him.

He remembered talking with Felix, and then going to a meeting where a lot was said and nothing was done. He remembered turning down Felix's invitation to spend the evening together. It wasn't as though he wouldn't appreciate the comfort that he could find there, it was that he wasn't sure he could handle anything intimate right now. Inside, he was a mess. It was going to take more than a few hours to sort all of this out in his head. But that didn't mean he was going to sit around at home and mope. That wouldn't get anything done and would only make things worse.

No, he needed to throw himself into his work. His work was what would end this, once he could just put those last few pieces together. He had that feeling, deep inside him, that he was just missing two or three crucial pieces. Once he had them, everything would fall into place and he would marvel at his stupidity and denseness. Until then, though, he had to work. Until then, he had to figure out what those pieces were. Until then, there was little time for the frivolity that he might otherwise welcome.

There would be plenty of time for that when this was over. When this was over, he could do anything he wanted with anyone he wanted, and it was something he could look forward to.

Until then, there was a war that he had to win.


	13. Losing Control

**Chapter Thirteen – Losing Control **

They had never taken the Ministry before. They had set foot in several times, but they had never taken it over before. With Death Eaters on every floor and very few Ministry officials left alive, it was anyone's guess what there was to be done.

The Ministry of Magic had fallen.

Harry hadn't been there when it had happened, though that was only an accident of fate. He had been called out about an hour beforehand, and had only through that escaped certain death. Instead, he had been one of the few called together to decide what to do next.

The Ministry of Magic had fallen.

It wasn't so much that they needed it to run the country; though many of the people that now lay dead in there had been fairly vital people. It was a psychological thing. If the rest of the populace saw that they couldn't even keep their own Ministry under their control, what chance did anywhere else stand?

The Ministry of Magic had fallen.

Plans were made immediately to retake it, as quickly as possible and regardless of loss of life. Harry immediately tried to veto those plans; he knew what kind of thing happened when they were implemented. Everyone was going to die, and that would only make things look worse.

They had lost some of their best people in the takeover, and so it was essential that whatever they do now be very well planned, so as to make best use of what they had. He wanted to slowly infiltrate the Ministry and take it one hall at a time, until they had a floor to themselves. Then they could launch a broader attack.

The problem with this plan, in the eyes of many, was that it was bound to take a lot longer than the others proposed. In Harry's opinion, the fact that he thought it more likely to work than the others should make up for the length of time it would take.

Felix was another of those who had made it out, and to Harry's relief, threw his support behind Harry. It didn't have to be that way, and as Felix was one of the more senior, then it was him that was respected most. It was him that they were going to listen to.

So when Felix said that that was what they were going to do, everyone nodded as though it had been the most brilliant thing they'd ever heard. Harry groused silently, and tried not to take it personally. As long as it got done, he was not going to complain about it.

It was decided that they would do it early the following morning, in the hope that the Death Eaters would be caught off-guard. Harry didn't think that was terribly likely, but didn't think any protests of his would be much paid attention to.

So he went home. He had already decided that he wasn't going to talk to Snape. If the man hadn't started talking now, there was little chance that he was going to. Instead, Harry needed to focus on what he was going to do the following day. Despite all saying that he should stay away from the Ministry so as not to make himself an easy target, he insisted on being one of the first into the Ministry.

At that, people had tried to call him someone just looking to be a hero. He had just reminded them of the people that he had lost, and they had shut up. He needed to do this, for himself, but for all of those who had died when he had killed Voldemort, and for Ron and Ginny. Ron was still alive, but he would be in Mungo's for months, and for that, Harry needed to fight for him. And would fight for him.

Of course, that meant Snape was going to show up. Snape walked into the kitchen as he was making dinner.

Harry, although not facing Snape, could hear the smirk in Snape's voice as he said, "Off to save the world again, Mr. Potter?"

Harry bit back the comment he was burning to make. Why was Snape always like this? "If you're not going to help me, then I don't really care to deal with you tonight."

"You do not care to, Mr. Potter?"

"That's right," said Harry, turning around to face Snape. "I don't care to deal with you right now. Not if you're going to stand in the way of things that I am going to do." He stared Snape down, for the first time not even slightly afraid of him.

"How am I standing in the way of things, Mr. Potter?" Snape made a show of stepping to the side.

"You could help me. I know you could help me. There's no point in you denying it. You were high up, and you know everything about what's happening. There's no way you couldn't. Your choosing not to tell me, or anyone, what is going on and who is behind it, is standing in the way of things. As were your lies."

"My lies, Mr. Potter?"

"That this wasn't Voldemort. We've already got a message from the Death Eaters in the Ministry that they are acting under Voldemort's orders. So, guess you're found out now. So even if you were to tell me something else, I don't think that I could believe it."

Snape smiled, an odd half-smile. "I assure you, Mr. Potter, that Lord Voldemort is very much dead. The Death Eaters in the Ministry are under a serious misapprehension."

"Why should I believe you?"

Snape shook his head, the smile still there. "It is your choice, Mr. Potter." A significant pause. "I could help you."

Harry wasn't going to play these games. Not right now. Not with what he was going to do tomorrow. "That's great, Snape. But I don't want to play your games, so do me a favor and stop trying to play them."

He turned his back on Snape and continued to chop his green beans. After a few seconds, Snape left the room. Harry felt a certain regret, in that Snape might have been able to help him, but didn't think that Snape would ever really follow through.

Seconds later, he heard a series of loud thumps, and ran from the kitchen to the stairs, where he found Snape in a crumpled pile at the bottom. Snape had evidently fallen down the stairs.

"Come on," said Harry, reaching down and pulling Snape up. "Get up."

Snape's demeanor seemed to have changed in the space of only a couple minutes. His face was screwed up in apparent pain, and his voice was soft, almost like a whisper. "Just kill me, Potter."

Harry shook his head. "Not now, Snape." He didn't feel like dealing with this, not today. He helped Snape up the stairs and to his bedroom. Snape didn't seem to mind the fact that Harry was bearing most of his weight and that Harry didn't seem very happy about it.

What Harry noticed the most was how little weight he was actually bearing. Snape was as light as a feather, and Harry found himself just a little worried. Surely a grown man shouldn't weigh quite this little. When he helped Snape into the bed, Snape simply fell back like a ragdoll, something else that worried Harry.

Snape's eyes were open, but they were glassy and unfocused. "Come on Snape, don't play this game with me again." Now Harry was a little annoyed. "Come on Snape." Harry took Snape by the shoulders and shook him, first gently, and then harder. He fought the urge to swear.

Something was wrong with Snape. It didn't matter what else had happened to him, normal men didn't just fade in and out of catatonia with no apparent cause. The charm that Hermione had used either wore off after a while or wasn't really what Snape needed in the first place.

Harry suddenly felt a sympathy for Snape. Yes, Snape was a greasy old bastard, but there was something really wrong with him. Something was causing this catatonia, something was obviously so bad that Snape had to resort to asking to die.

"I'm going to go downstairs and make you some…some soup or something." Harry backed out of the room, eyes on Snape until he was halfway down the hall.

Something had changed, and he didn't know what. Snape was important to him; keeping him alive and well now seemed like something of the utmost importance. It wasn't even that Snape was likely to help him, just that Snape was a human being in distress. Harry knew that he had been ignoring and neglecting him ever since he had come to his home, and that surely couldn't have helped. The things that Hermione had said to him started to make more sense. Snape deserved more than his disdain because he needed more than that. Now that Hermione was with Ron, it really was up to Harry to give Snape that.

* * *

Harry only slept for a couple of hours. He couldn't have slept for more, even if he had had the time. His nerves were all on edge. The thought of what he was about to do, the whole plan that could so easily fall through, made sure that every time he closed his eyes, it was for no more than a few minutes.

At around three, he got up and took a long, hot shower. He needed it to think, and needed it to mentally prepare himself. After that, he dressed in comfortably casual clothes. This was going to be a long day, and the last thing he needed was something restricting or uncomfortable. He needed something he could move quickly and easily in. This was a war that he was going to be fighting.

He met the others at the designated point. He was not the first there, nor the last. The rest of them, thirty-six in number, seemed a mix of anxiety and bravado, and Harry wasn't sure which was worse. They were mostly standing alone or in small groups, talking nervously among themselves.

In a way that he hadn't felt for years, Harry was starting to feel like a leader again. They looked at him as he walked among them, and gave him what he was sure they assumed were brave smiles. He smiled back at them, not sure that his smile was any less false.

They looked like they expected him to be their leader. He had been the de facto leader the last time Voldemort had been around, after they had managed to get the Ministry out of the way. But most of the people here had played at least a peripheral role in that, and so it was Harry's opinion that they shouldn't need him. Yet, when he passed them and smiled at them, they gained an almost perceptible surge of courage.

It was a good feeling, to be the leader. But it was terrifying, too. He was the one that would be blamed if this all went wrong. He was the one that was going to bear the brunt of whatever happened next.

That kind of power was addictive and Harry knew that he had once thrived on it. But it had been years ago. He didn't know if he could still do it. He didn't know if he still wanted to do it.

But he couldn't have doubts now. He couldn't let them know his fear, or his worry, or the fact that he was sure he had no idea what he was doing. For now, all they needed to see was his smile, and his determination. For now, they were going to be his men and women, and together they were going to fight.

Later, he could worry. Later, he was sure that he would worry. Later, he would agonize over every decision that he was going to make in the next few hours.

But not now.

Later.


	14. Taking Back What's Ours

A/N: You have one of this trilogy's loyal fans to thank for talking me out of stopping it. (You know who you are.)

**Chapter Fourteen – Taking Back What's Ours**

They begin to Apparate into the Ministry, six of them at a time, at ten minute intervals, wands at the ready, at different places in the Ministry. At the very least, Harry wanted to make them difficult to find and difficult to kill. All of them had been told to kill first and answer questions later. He was sure that that was a policy that he would be made to regret later, but for now, it seemed like the most sensible thing to do. Right now, they needed to take the Ministry back. If for nothing more than appearances.

He was in the last group to Apparate in. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't because he was afraid of what might be in there, and that this was arguably the most dangerous group to be going with, if the rest of them had already been found.

He took a moment to consider the irony of Apparating on the very lowest floor, the Department of Mysteries. But he could only consider it for an instant. There were Death Eaters down here in droves. Curses were flying in every direction and Harry was not spared from them all. He did manage to miss all the Killing Curses, but when his face began to swell and grow so heavy that he dropped to his knees, it took a well-placed countercurse from one of his fellows to bring him back to his feet. More than ever, he appreciated the idea of doing this in groups rather than alone. Everyone was stronger when they had people behind and next to them.

It felt like hours before they'd secured the floor. Most of the Death Eaters had ended up dead. If not from a Killing Curse, from their own wand. But Harry and the others had managed to round up three of them and put a Bodybind charm on them, leaving them helpless. The Ministry could deal with them later.

Once that floor was cleared, it was time to move up to the next. The theory was for everyone to clear their own floor and then to move to the next highest and so on, until eventually they would all be on the top floor, with one free Ministry. It was perhaps idealistic to hope that it would work out so easily. They were vastly outnumbered and surprise was really the only thing they had on their side. Surprise and Harry Potter, though Harry wasn't inclined to count himself on the list of assets.

When they raced to the next floor, they found a heavy fight still in progress, and it did not look as though the Death Eaters were losing. Glancing around, Harry saw at least two of those on his side on the ground, though whether dead or injured, he couldn't tell. But right now, that didn't matter. There were Death Eaters to be dealt with.

Another eternity later, that floor was cleared. There were no live Death Eaters to show for this one, though. Harry was exhausted and could feel the sweat and blood mixing as it ran down his face and back. It was a disgusting combination, and one that Harry had never thought he'd need to feel again. Some in his group – there were only three of them left – felt that it was time for them to take a breather, if only for five minutes, before going to the next floor.

Harry vigorously vetoed that idea. The thought that he should give up for any length of time when there were still things to be done was awful for him. It would be as if he had backed down in that last fight with Voldemort. He could never have lived with himself if he'd done that, just as he wouldn't be able to live with himself if a single person died because he wasn't there to make sure it didn't happen. Hermione had called it his Martyr Complex, and he hadn't disagreed with it But that didn't mean that he wasn't going to do it.

He gave them all the option of staying or coming with him, and to a man, they all agreed to come. He was relieved; he hadn't fancied the thought of going it alone. He had nearly always had people behind him, supporting him, and it was when things went most badly that he was doing it alone.

It was a relief to find that the next floor up was already deserted. It made Harry feel as though there were still some competent people around to fight Death Eaters. It occurred to him that this was Felix's group, and that made him grin. Of course Felix was competent. At least when he wanted to be.

So they went up to the next floor. That was where they found Felix, and only Felix's group. The rest had all been killed. Felix wasn't looking so great, and there were only two of his left. They were losing against the Death Eaters. With Harry and his three, they made a complete group, and were able, in the next eternity, to win back the floor.

By the time they did so, though, Felix was on the ground. His breathing was harsh and gasping. Harry didn't know any Healing charms, he had never bothered to learn them. A quick question to all of the rest and found that none of them did, either. There was only one thing to do. He Apparated Felix to Mungo's, and hope that they'd just take care of him.

Then it was time to put Felix out of his mind. Then it was time to keep going. This wasn't the first time that he'd lost someone dear to him in the midst of a battle. It was difficult to force his mind back to the task at hand, but it had to be done.

Things got progressively worse as they went up. The Death Eaters had clearly been expecting something and had massed their people near the top floors. It had resulted in wholesale slaughter that made even Harry feel a little sick. They hadn't been quick about some of the deaths, and it looked that way. The floors were practically slick with blood. Harry felt no qualms at all about throwing Killing Curses out; not after what they had done.

But despite that, it had to be admitted that they were losing. There were just too many Death Eaters. They were too strong, too well entrenched, and had vastly more familiarity with nasty curses than any of Harry's people did, and weren't afraid to show off that knowledge.

Harry was ready to call it quits. To just get everyone out of here and come back another day to finish it off. But he didn't really want to; to leave now would be a huge psychological victory for the Death Eaters and a huge psychological loss for his own. He didn't know that he'd be able to convince anyone to come back to fight at the Ministry if he gave up now. At the same time, he didn't want to get all of his people killed. That would be just as crushing.

He was trapped in indecision. This had happened before. He was stuck between the safe choice and the hard one. The safe one and the dangerous one. It was like him to pick the more dangerous route, but that inevitably ended up in more people dying. This time, it might well end up with him being among them. If that wouldn't be a victory for Voldemort, he couldn't think what would be.

That was what made his mind up.

They kept fighting. More and more of them died with each passing eternity, and Harry ended up a little more wounded than he might have liked. They were still losing, were still suffering, but they were taking out Death Eaters, one by one. They were probably going to lose, but they would take out Death Eaters with them.

That was why when it happened, Harry thought that he was hallucinating. He thought he saw someone at the other end of the floor, casting curses with great skill. It looked an awful lot like Snape. He blinked a few times, tried to clear his head, but when he looked back up, Snape was still there.

It was a Snape that looked very real. This Snape was frail on his feet, but the curses were working. Harry was frozen, watching the man. It didn't sync with anything else that he'd seen from Snape in the past forever. It was only when a curse flew past Harry's ear that he was jolted back into action. He tried making his way across the room to see if this was a hallucination or the real thing.

It was the real thing.

He didn't know what it was about Snape's presence, whether it was just a refreshed body rather than one exhausted from fighting for the past ten eternities, or if it was Snape's skill in cursing people, or something else entirely, but the fact was that his presence was helping. It only took half an eternity to finish up that floor, and it seemed to take less time as they continued ascending, until they were back on the top floor. All that time, Snape had not said a word to any of them, and it was that that made Harry think that this was some utterly bizarre hallucination.

Somehow. Somehow it all got done. Somehow, they were standing on the top floor of the Ministry, alone. No Death Eaters. Just the ten of them. Ten, out of thirty-six, with a few having been Apparated to Mungo's in various states of health. Maybe five of them would live. Heavy losses, all said and done.

On the other hand, they now had the Ministry back. And Snape, standing ostentatiously aloof from the group, was the only one that could be thanked. It didn't make any sense why he was here fighting, didn't make the slightest sense in the world, considering that he had been catatonic not that long ago. Now he had just defeated all of his own friends, fighting for Harry Potter. It made Harry's head hurt to think about it

But he really did need to thank the man. This wouldn't have worked without Snape.

So he walked over. Snape was now sitting against a wall. His eyes were closed. He might well have been asleep. Harry didn't want to be looming over him, so he sat down as well. He didn't want to actually touch Snape, was afraid of what the reaction might be, so he just said, "Snape?" When Snape didn't respond, he said, "Severus? Are you awake?" Still no response. Harry couldn't believe that he'd go back to catatonia right after something like that.

Just as he was about to get up and walk away, Snape said, "Clearly you have no conception of a man needing to rest."

Harry turned back to Snape. "I just wanted to thank you. You are the reason that we're both here right now."

"I know that, Mr. Potter."

"Do you need help getting back home?" It was then that Harry realized that Snape shouldn't even be able to be here, because of the collar. He decided to worry about that later, it paled in comparison to everything else.

"I assure you I will be fine, Mr. Potter."

"I don't believe you. I'm going to Apparate you back home. You will stay there until I can get back. There may be some things I need to do here before I can come back home."

"Get your face in the papers, you mean? The ever arrogant Mr. Potter." Without another word, Snape took out his wand, waved it, and Disapparated.

Harry swore. That was just like Snape.


	15. Explanations

A/N: Yeah, yeah, late update. Busy little bee here. Also, school starts for me next Wednesday, so don't know how frequent updates will be.

**Chapter Fifteen: Explanations**

Harry Apparated home as soon as he could, after he had dealt with the press and given them all the statements they wanted. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep for days, but he had a pesky problem sitting in his house. At least, he assumed that Snape was still there. But, if the man could get around the collar he was wearing once, he could no doubt do it whenever he pleased, and could be anywhere. Harry hadn't really thought about that until he was ready to Apparate, and cursed himself for not sending someone along with Snape to make sure that the man stayed in the house. So, when he got home, he didn't at all really expect to see Snape there.

But Snape was there. He was watching television, feet up, acting as though nothing at all had happened. He looked up as Harry entered, a smirk on his face.

Harry wanted to be aggressive, forceful, take out everything he had left on Snape. But he didn't dare. Didn't dare torment someone whose power he knew nothing about. He had never really thought of Snape as anything more than a bully, but now he could see him as a potentially very powerful bully. Harry had made it through all of this, he wasn't going to let Snape be the one to kill him. That would be the cruelest irony of all.

Instead, he walked over to the sofa, stood over Snape, and said, "I want an explanation, and I want it right now."

"You can want to your heart's demand, Mr. Potter, but that hardly means that you will get it."

"How did you get past that collar? It's supposed to be able to nullify any spell, no matter how simple or complex. What kind of dark magic do you have, Snape?" Harry shook his head, knew that he was sounding afraid and worried instead of strong and decisive. "Tell me what you did to make that collar not work."

"Does it matter, Mr. Potter, as I was the one that saved your life back at the Ministry? Does it matter how I did it, so long as it was done?"

"Of course it matters. It matters because I have to notify the Ministry…" As soon as those words were out of his mouth, he realized the absurdity of it and looked away. There was little left of the Ministry, and they would be in no hurry to punish Snape, not after what he had done. They would probably vote for the removal of the collar. Not that it was doing any good as it was anyway.

"How does it feel, Mr. Potter?"

"How does what feel?"

"To know you are completely alone?" His voice had taken on that oily tone that he had been so fond of using as a professor. "To know that there is no one to save your precious little behind when you get yourself in trouble?"

"I'm not scared, Snape. And I'm not alone. The Ministry may be in pieces, but I still have my friends that are alive. We will work together to undo everything you have done."

"Everything I have done, Mr. Potter? Unless I have been committing acts I do not remember, the only thing of note that I have recently done is to save you and your precious friends. It is the Death Eaters that you are referring to, not myself."

"You are a Death Eater."

"As you say." Snape turned the television off and stood suddenly, forcing Harry to take several steps back. The atmosphere in the room was immediately changed; whereas Harry had had a little power over the situation before, it was now clear that he had none. Snape dominated the room. As always, Harry was intimidated by his presence while fighting to not show it on the outside.

"Don't go anywhere," said Harry, pulling out his wand and aiming it at Snape's face. "Tell me how you got around the collar, or you're not going anywhere."

"Rash, Mr. Potter. Too rash." Snape closed his eyes for an instant, and then Harry's wand was flying out of his hand across the room.

In itself, Harry supposed that was not incredibly out of the normal. It was a nonverbal Expelliarmus. On a good day, he could even do that himself. The fact that Snape was wearing a collar, and had no wand to speak of, was what made it just slightly unusual. Harry wasn't going to turn his back on Snape right now to retrieve his wand. "Just tell me, Snape. How hard is it for you to just be honest with me, for one minute? All I want to know is how you're doing it. Like you said, I can't even tell the Ministry how you're doing it, so your secret is safe with me. Just tell me!"

Snape stepped forward. Harry stood his ground. Soon, they were almost touching. It made Harry highly uncomfortable; he wasn't attracted to Snape and the only men that had ever been intentionally this close to him were his lovers. Snape most certainly did not fall into that category.

"There are all kinds of things I could tell you, Mr. Potter," said Snape. His voice was almost a whisper, but still that same oily tone. "None of which would please you to hear, and few of which you would understand. There is no more sense explaining Potions to first years, than to explain dark magic to someone who is so obviously bereft of the slightest shred of it. My secrets will remain my own." He stepped back and stalked out of the room.

Harry called out after him, "If everything's so great, and you're completely in control of everything, then why are you still here? Why don't you just get out, if it's so awful living here with me?"

No reply came from upstairs.

* * *

The following morning, Harry got two pieces of surprising news. Both came from the same source, Felix, who invited himself over for breakfast. Harry had never been more glad of his company. Snape remained upstairs and had not come out of his room since the episode the previous day. Harry liked to think that Snape was sulking; it helped to attribute childish emotions to the man, he had found.

Felix looked awful, as though he hadn't slept or showered since after it had all finished, and admitted to as much while he was drinking coffee. "There's important things to be done, Harry, and I'm afraid that you're at the center of them."

If Felix had expected this to come as a surprise, he was sorely mistaken. Harry was used to being at the center of things. He had grown to dislike it, but that didn't mean it necessarily stopped happening. "What's going on?"

"Well, we interrogated some of the Death Eaters that we managed to capture. They absolutely insist that Voldemort is still alive, despite our telling them that we have someone else telling us that he is dead. They also insist that Snape is on their side and is Voldemort's right-hand man."

"We knew that second bit, anyway. Snape is not a good guy, and never has been. We're only keeping him alive for the information that he could give us."

"How did he get to the Ministry?"

"I tried asking him. He didn't decide to volunteer the information. He's hardly the most cooperative of prisoners. Especially as he is now free to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. If he has magic at his disposal, which he clearly must, then there's really not anything we can do to keep him from going back to rejoin his Death Eaters. Except…except for the fact that he hasn't?"

"You're sure of it?"

"Absolutely. I checked in on him earlier. He's perfectly fine, he just won't talk to me or tell me why he's doing any of the things he's doing. Being here certainly isn't opening his mouth or loosening his tongue any."

"Do you think he'd be better off in Azkaban? If he's not getting us anything, then there's little point of having him run away from us again. It was hell to catch him the first time, it won't be any easier the second time. One word and we can get it done."

It made sense, Harry had to admit. But he also knew what the conditions were like there, and Snape had saved his life. He could hardly condemn the man to suffering because he'd done a good thing. So he shook his head. "Not for now. Not until we know what's going on in his head. There's something really important here, I can feel it. I just don't know what." He had never really trusted his hunches in the past, but this one felt right. "You said you had two pieces of news. What's the second?"

Felix couldn't meet his eye. "There was a meeting, late last night. We need someone to be in charge of things, now that the Ministry is more or less in shambles. We need someone to build it back up and get us through this crisis. We spent a long time debating back and forth over who we'd like that person to be. There were a lot of names thrown around, and eventually we decided on someone. I'm not entirely happy with who we've picked, but…I was overruled."

There was a horrible feeling in his stomach. "Who's been picked?"

"You have, Harry."

"Do I have a choice? Can I say no?" A pause. "And why did you not want me to be the next Minister of Magic? Or if not actually that, then at least the one in charge?" He didn't know whether to be hurt or angry.

"You don't really have a choice. I didn't want you to be put in this position, because it's a position that you've been in too many times already. You've performed magnificently each time, but that doesn't mean you need to do it again."

"Are you jealous or concerned?"

"Jealous? No, Harry, this position is not one that anyone could be jealous of. The person who takes this job is going to be someone that is reviled after a few years. The things you are going to have to do to keep everything under control are not going to make you friends. We don't want you to be nice to the people, we want you to keep things together and get rid of the Death Eaters, at whatever cost."

"So that would be concerned, then?"

"Of course I'm concerned, Harry. You know how I…we've had good times together in the past, and you know I have nothing but affection for you. I don't want this job to destroy you. You were nearly destroyed the last time Voldemort was around. Can you really stand to have it all happen again?"

Harry was sure that this was the point where he was supposed to make a noble speech about sacrificing all for the Wizarding World and that he didn't mind if he was killed as long as he fixed things first. But that wasn't how he felt. Not at all. He didn't want to do this, he had never wanted to be back in control of anything. "Did you say that I had a choice in the matter?" He hoped that he had heard wrong, that Felix would tell him that he didn't have to do this, that everything was going to be okay even if he didn't put his life back on the line, that things were going to work out just fine.

"I'm sorry, Harry. But they're really not willing to take no for an answer. You're the one we've all picked. It's not something you can back out of." Felix couldn't look him in the eye.

Harry nodded. "Then I guess I'll do it."


	16. Minister of Magic

A/N: Happy birthday me! This story officially has over 10,000 hits!

In other news, three chapters left to go of this one, and I promise things will start to get exciting soon. Also, look for some growing implied Harry/Snape, though there definitely won't be anything more than that in this one (haven't decided about the next one yet)

Also, I'll try to start updating more regularly, maybe once a week or so. We'll see how it goes.

**Chapter Sixteen: Minister of Magic**

One last night in his old bed before going to the Ministry. They had set up special quarters for him where they thought they could better protect him. Harry wasn't all that convinced that their protection was worth a damn. Instead, he had begged Hermione to leave Ron's bedside and put some wards around them. He trusted Hermione's magic over anyone else's. Ron was still in Mungo's, but he was slowly recovering. He was at least conscious most of the time, and Harry spent a pleasant hour sitting with him and reminiscing.

Then he was moving, out of the house he had lived in since he had recovered from his last encounter with Voldemort. It was full of memories, but, more to the point, full of stuff. It took hours to sort through it all, and he threw away far more than he would have liked, but he had limited time and space to move.

His new rooms were nothing spectacular. They totaled about half the size of his old house. He expected that it would only be temporary, but Felix intimated that successful handling of the crisis would mean he would remain Minister of Magic. He didn't know how he felt about that. He didn't know that he wanted to stay Minister of Magic. He didn't even know that he wanted to be it in the first place. Felix had bullied him into doing it and he could hardly say no now.

There was a more immediate problem though. Snape. There were those in the Ministry that were very reluctant to allow a convicted Death Eater like Snape to take up residence in the Ministry, and they questioned why Snape needed to stay with Harry in the first place. The original reasons no longer applied. But there were other others who argued exactly to the contrary, that Snape was their most valuable tool and that he needed to be watched closely and interrogated harshly. Harry couldn't agree with those, he couldn't condone the torture that he knew would be inflicted on Snape if that were to happen.

For his own part, Harry didn't know that he wanted to keep Snape around. Snape had saved his life, but Snape was the same bastard that he had always been and would always remain. He had committed crimes and deserved to pay for them.

Asking Snape seemed like the only thing to do, though he knew that others would object to giving Snape even the semblance of free will.

Snape, of course, knew about the move. It would have been hard to not know, considering the mess and noise that Harry had been making all day.

"Moving up in the world, Mr. Potter."

"I've something important to ask you, Snape. You know I'm moving, and I can hardly just leave you here while I'm gone."

"I'm not some child that needs to be watched every second of the day, Mr. Potter."

"You're a criminal. You have to be watched. Trust me, it's not something I enjoy doing, so I'd be just as happy to send you back to Azkaban and the life that you had there. I gave you your chance to talk to me, to tell me the things that I need to know, and you threw it back in my face. You can either go back to Azkaban or start talking to me, and give me a reason to keep you away from that place. Do you really want to end up back there?"

"I have told you everything that you need to know, Mr. Potter." Snape rose from the bed and stepped closer to Harry. Harry had to make a concerted effort to remain where he was. He knew the reaction that Snape was hoping for and refused to give it to him. "I have told you that Voldemort is dead."

"But he's not dead. You're lying to me."

"I saved your life and those of your friends. I certainly did not have to do that, Mr. Potter. I think that that alone should be reason enough for you to grant me the leniency that you are looking so hard to take away."

"I'm listening."

"I can help you to destroy the Death Eaters. I don't think that you and your band of miscreants are capable of it. Only a Death Eater can truly know the way other Death Eaters think."

"Then if you're so willing, why haven't you helped me before?" Alarm bells were ringing in his mind, but he blazed on. There had to be a trap in this, but he didn't care. He knew that he needed help. Too long had he gone on without asking for it, and too many times that had caused the deaths of people close to him. He wasn't going to do it again, not if he could avoid it. All of the bloodshed that had come as the price of his last encounter with Voldemort, he would do anything to prevent happening again. "And how can you help me? How can I trust you?"

"I haven't helped you before because you weren't in a position to do anything, Mr. Potter. The famous Harry Potter was struggling to hang onto his job at the Ministry and there was no benefit to me to helping that Potter. Now you are Minister of Magic and suddenly there grow more and more reason for me to assist. I am a pragmatic man, Mr. Potter. Now it behooves me to help you."

"What, are you hoping for a pardon?"

"I think that it would only be appropriate."

Harry thought about it for a moment. Thought about what it would mean to pardon the number 2 Death Eater because he could do something that, likely, any other witch or wizard could eventually figure out. But how many more lives would it cost to do it that way? He looked up at Snape and nodded. "Okay. We've got a deal."

* * *

It had been a long time since Harry had had anything approaching significant power. During his last fight with Voldemort, he had been the one calling all the shots and everyone had listened to him unquestioningly. He had not had that power since, and in fact had had less and less of it as time went on. Now it was thrust back at him and it was overwhelming.

Hermione had again left Ron's bedside to stay with him through his first day. He was intensely glad of the support and trusted her advice more than he trusted the words of anyone else. He sat in meeting after meeting and felt increasingly useless. This was not the wielding of power as he was used to it. He was used to going out and doing things, not sitting around and talking about them. Several times, he suggested that that might be the best course of action, but he was shot down on every attempt.

It occurred to him then that perhaps he was being used in the same way that Fudge and Scrimgeour had tried to use him, as a posterboy for the Ministry without actually wanting him to do anything. Once that thought had occurred to him, he abruptly ended the meeting he had half-fallen asleep in, and took Hermione aside. The two of them needed to speak alone.

"Do you think I'm being used, Hermione?" There was no point being subtle.

Hermione smiled. "Of course you are, Harry."

He frowned. "So why am I doing this? I thought this…"

"We were kids then, Harry. Yes, you're being manipulated and used, but you can fight back. It's not that there's another Minister of Magic that's telling you what to do…you're the one in charge. There are plenty of people here that are going to try to use you to the best of their ability, and if you let them, they'll walk right over you. But you're not that kind of person, Harry. I know you're not, and I'll be here, and Ron will be here, to help you. I think it's great that you've finally gotten so far."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, a little weary at Hermione's strange burst of enthusiasm. "But I'm no great shakes at running things, and first I've got to get rid of Voldemort and the Death Eaters or no one will ever pay me a bit of attention. I screwed up the first time…"

"No you didn't. You gave the world years worth of respite from him. So what if he's back now? You've already defeated him twice and you're loads more powerful than you were either of those times. The only thing you've not got on your side now is love." With this, she gave him a rather pointed glare.

"I'm a little too busy to go falling in love, Hermione, but thanks for the suggestion."

"I got Ron."

Harry smiled. "And I'm really happy for both of you. But it's just not for me."

Hermione shrugged. "Suit yourself. Anyway, what's going on with Snape?"

Harry shrugged as well, looking at the ground to avoid looking Hermione in the eye. "I think he's going to be staying with me for a while still."

"Still staying with you? Come on Harry, you have to look at this logically. He's not helped you so far and so he's not going to help us again. I'm all for cooperating with him, but he's not really doing his share, is he? Throw him back in Azkaban. He got his second chance."

"Hermione! He saved my life. I can't condemn him back to Azkaban even if he is still a greasy git. He's…I guess he's my responsibility. And he says that he'll help me now because I'm in a position to do something, whatever that means."

Hermione got that look in her eye. The look that said she knew something was up and wasn't going to rest until she got to the bottom of it. "Is that all he said?"

Harry thought back. He wasn't so good at recalling conversations verbatim. "I think so. It was something like that."

"Honestly, Harry. You're hopeless sometimes. If you have to keep in touch with him, why don't I take over for you and keep him at my place? It's safer than keeping him in the Ministry. I mean, he could still be working for Voldemort. Would you really put that past him?"

"He's staying with me, Hermione."

That look of intense concentration deepened. "Why are you so focused on him staying with you? Why does it matter that much…" She gasped. "Harry, you're not…you know?...Are you? I mean…it's okay if you are, I guess…I just…"

It took a moment for Harry to realize what she was asking him. He swept his hands in a decisively negative gesture. "Absolutely not. No! I would never…"

"Well, we all know that you're…well…"

"Just because I like men doesn't mean I'll sleep with anyone that happens to come to my house." Harry screwed up his face in disgust, trying to banish the mental images. "No! That's just wrong, Hermione. Never mind that he's old enough to be my dad."

"There's definitely something up with Snape, Harry. And I'm not going to give up until I find out what it is."

"Maybe he's just trying to get a pardon. Yeah, he did say that," Harry said, suddenly remembering. "He said that he was helping me so that I would be able to give him a pardon."

Hermione didn't look convinced. "I don't think so, Harry. We still don't have any explanation for how he suddenly goes in and out of comas or how he got out of that collar."

"He didn't get out of it, exactly. It was just like it didn't work."

"Exactly. That's not normal, Harry. Trust me. I've never seen one not work before. There's more to Snape than meets the eye. We've always known that…but now…this is something else. I'm going to figure it out."

Harry almost felt bad for Snape.


End file.
